Guilty Feelings
by Ketterly
Summary: Discipline story with spanking of an adult.  Set after the last season.  Connor is struggling with all his "new" old memories.
1. Chapter 1

Yeah, it's another one of those stories. This takes place several months after the last season of the show. What's left of Angel Investigations has moved back to the Hyperion.

It's a discipline story with parental spanking of an adult. Please don't read if that's not your thing.

* * *

"Dad?" Connor said hesitantly.

"Yeah, pal?" Angel answered kindly, walking into the lobby from his office.

"Dad," Connor said dejectedly, sinking down onto the couch and putting his head in his hands.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Angel demanded immediately, running over to him. "Did someone hurt you? Connor, are you hurt?"

"No," Connor choked out with some effort, shaking his head and smiling wanly. "I'm not hurt."

"Then what's wrong?" Angel said, kneeling down to look him in the eye. "What's the matter?"

Connor took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself, but it only came out in a sob. Guilty feelings had been overtaking him since the day he got his memories back, and for the past couple of days, they had just been overwhelming. Everything he'd done—everything he'd done to his father—it was just all too much.

"Connor!" Angel exclaimed helplessly, moving to sit by him on the couch. He pulled his son to him and wrapped his arms around him while he cried. "Connor, shhh. Come on now. Calm down and talk to me. You know I'll help you if I can."

"Dad … God," was all Connor could get out for several minutes.

Angel smoothed his son's hair down and rubbed his shoulders in what he hoped was a comforting manner. Finally the tears subsided and Connor leaned back in abject misery.

"Why didn't you just kill me?" he asked sullenly.

"What?" Angel said. "What are you talking about?"

Connor glanced at Angel with a pained expression.

"You should have just killed me," he said. "The day Wesley pulled you out. You should have just broken my neck right then."

"Connor!" Angel snapped, pulling him against his chest again. "Don't talk like that."

"I'm a horrible person," Connor lamented. "I'm a horrible person, and you tried to take those memories away from me so I wouldn't know it."

"You're not a horrible person," Angel soothed. "You're my baby boy."

Connor snorted. "Your baby boy sank you to the bottom of the fucking ocean, Dad."

"Watch your mouth," Angel corrected automatically. "And yeah, I handled it wrong. I never should have tossed you out. You were so confused, and so angry. I … I didn't know what else to do. I helped you screw up your life as much as you did. Can you ever forgive me?"

Connor's face crumpled into a mixture of anguish and outrage.

"Me, forgive you?" he demanded. "You're asking _me _to forgive _you_?"

"Well, not if you're not ready to," Angel said quietly.

"Dad!" Connor exclaimed, pushing Angel away. "What is _wrong_ with you? I dropped you into the ocean for like three months! I slept with your girlfriend! Who then gave birth to my fucking demon child who … Jesus, I don't even want to think about it."

"Hush, Connor," Angel said firmly, pulling him back into an embrace. "None of that matters now."

"Of course it matters," Connor spat. "How can you say that? It'll always matter. It's all I can think about."

"I told you when you were welding that box shut that you'd hate yourself for it someday," Angel reminded him. "And I told you then not to. Remember?"

"Yeah," Connor whispered. "And you were right. I hate myself."

"Don't," Angel said. "I don't hate you."

"How can you not?" Connor demanded. "I am so screwed up. I'm damaged goods."

"Yeah, well," Angel said, smiling wryly. "I guess we all are around here."

"Those of us who aren't dead," Connor commented. "I should be dead."

"Stop it, Connor!" Angel said angrily, shaking his shoulder. "Stop saying things like that!"

"Why?" Connor said listlessly. "It's true."

"That's _it_," Angel said, taking Connor's wrist and jerking him in one smooth motion across his lap. "You need to let go of some of that guilt. I'll help you."

"What are you—Ow!" Connor said, startled as the blows started to fall against his bottom. "Are you—ouch—giving me a spanking?"

Angel laughed at his son's incredulous tone and picked up the pace. "I guess I am. I should have done this a long time ago."

"I'm nineteen!" Connor protested, trying to wiggle away.

"Well, really, you're more like three, but it doesn't matter either way. You're still getting your ass busted."

"Angel!" Connor yelled, starting to panic. "Stop!"

"Why?" Angel said, a hard edge to his voice. "A minute ago, you wanted to die. You want some pain, I'll give you some."

Angel jerked Connor up slightly by the waistband of his jeans just long enough to undo his belt buckle and unsnap the button. He dropped him back down roughly and shoved both Connor's jeans and boxers to his knees.

"Don't take my pants down!" Connor yelled, outraged. "Stop! You can't do this!"

"Already am," Angel said simply, resuming the spanking. He smacked with determination, covering every bit of Connor's bottom that he could see.

"You're really pissing me off!" Connor shouted, but his voice broke on the last word.

Angry and frustrated, Connor put both his hands back, palms up, trying to block the blows. Angel stopped abruptly.

"Move your hands," he ordered.

"No," Connor said defiantly. "Stop hitting me."

"If you won't move your hands, I'll just hit your legs," Angel threatened. "I'm betting that'll hurt worse."

When Connor didn't respond, Angel smacked the tops of his thighs sharply. Connor sucked in a breath but still refused to move his hands. Angel smacked him two more times, harder and lower. Connor let out an angry howl and quickly took his hands away from his bottom. He pounded the couch hard in frustration.

"Fine! Are you happy?" he yelled at Angel.

"I'm never happy," Angel said easily, picking up the punishment with renewed vigor. "You wouldn't like me when I'm happy, remember?"

"I don't like you much now, either," Connor said vehemently. "Let me go!"

"Not yet," Angel said. "And if you keep up this attitude, I might just have to take a belt to you."

"No!" Connor yelled, twisting violently in an effort to get away. "Let me go!"

Angel just held him easily in place.

Becoming increasingly frustrated, Connor jerked back and elbowed Angel in the ribs as hard as he could. The spanking stopped, and Connor tried to push himself off of his father's lap, but Angel leaned forward with his own elbow digging hard into Connor's back.

"Are you angry, little boy?" he said quietly into Connor's ear. "Well, so am I."

With that, Connor realized with a sick feeling that Angel had reached down and was yanking Connor's own belt out of the pants that were gathered at his knees.

"No, don't," he said, the fear pulsating through his stomach. "I'm sorry."

"Too late for that," Angel said, whipping the belt down hard across his bottom.

"Ow! Shhhii—" Connor hissed, managing to stop the word from fully forming.

Angel actually laughed, which made Connor bristle with anger.

"This isn't funny," he said petulantly as the second swat fell. "You're … you're hurting me."

Connor's heart felt heavy, and he found that he couldn't hold the tears back any longer. He gave way to uncontrollable sobs as Angel lit a new fire across his backside with the belt.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he wailed miserably, burying his face in his arms. "I'm so sorry for all of it."

He was so caught up in his tears that he didn't realize the onslaught had stopped until he felt Angel righting his clothes for him. He made no attempt to help and just let his father manhandle him some more. Angel patted him on the back affectionately, and when he still didn't move, Angel gripped his arms gently and pulled him into a sitting position.

Connor lay down and put his head in his dad's lap and continued to sob.

"Stupid … ocean … sorry," he said, his breath hitching. "So sorry."

"It's okay," Angel said gently, rubbing his hand up and down Connor's arm comfortingly. "It's okay."

"God. Jasmine. God," Connor continued.

"Hush," Angel said lightly.

Connor shook his head and continued to cry.

"Just beat me some more," he said pitifully.

"No. Not right now," Angel said, and Connor gave a laugh that turned into a cough.

He sat up and leaned back against the couch with his eyes closed.

"I'm the worst kid ever," he said seriously as the tears abated. "Like, I mean it. But … But thank you for not killing me anyway."

Angel pulled him close and pushed his head gently down onto his shoulder.

"Geez," Connor said after a few minutes of silence. "I can't believe you whipped me with my own belt. You know I have some sort of complex or something now, right?"

Angel shrugged. "Yours was easier to get to than mine."

"You … you won't tell anybody about this, will you?" Connor said hesitantly, suddenly becoming embarrassed about the whole situation.

"You don't want anyone to know that I spanked your bare little bottom?" Angel teased.

"Dad," Connor huffed. "I—no, I don't. Please?"

"I won't mention it," Angel promised. "Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "But I still feel guilty."

"You probably will for awhile," Angel said. "Trust me, I know. It's sort of my thing."

The two of them sat in companionable silence until a voice startled Connor so much that he jumped to his feet.

"Are you finished punishing your offspring, Angel?" Illyria asked from the top of the stairs. "I would like to visit the lobby now."

Connor felt his face flush bright red. He glared at Angel angrily.

"You didn't tell me she was here!" he spat, grabbing his belt off the couch and replacing it hastily.

"Sorry," Angel said. "I didn't know."

"He remains defiant," Illyria observed as she descended the stairs. "Do you wish for me to punish him further for you?"

"No, Illyria," Angel said, trying to hide his smile at Connor's horrified expression. "I like him a little bit defiant. It's okay."

"Why won't the earth just swallow me up?" Connor muttered to himself.

"If you know the correct incantation, it will," Illyria offered, peering at him with interest.

"I'm—gonna go home now," Connor said. "Thanks, Dad."

Connor turned on his heel and quickly headed toward the front doors of the hotel.

"He thanks you for striking him," Illyria said curiously.

"He thanked me for helping him," Angel said quietly.

"I do not understand," Illyria stated.

"Neither does he," Angel said. "But he will someday."


	2. Chapter 2

I decided to add another chapter to this. It's still a discipline story, of course, so don't read it if you're offended by spanking. I have a few more chapters written, but am working on fleshing them out a bit more.

* * *

After a couple weeks, Connor had moved past what he called in his head the "guilt trip over the knee." He intended never to mention it to Angel, and hoped that Angel would provide him the same courtesy. So far he had.

As much as he hated to admit it, being punished had taken a little bit of the edge off. His emotions were still all over the place, but it wasn't quite as bad as it had been. He realized that he had to get on with his life. Or lives. It was kind of hard juggling the Reilly family with Angel, but he was managing.

Connor had also been spending quite a bit of time with Spike, much to Angel's dismay. Spike definitely knew how to have a good time. While Connor often suspected that half the things Spike dragged him into were just to spite Angel, he couldn't help but enjoy himself anyway.

Until the mornings after.

Ugh.

The mornings after were almost always rough.

The pounding on the door—or was it inside his head—wouldn't stop. Maybe if he positioned the pillow just right over his head, he could drown it out. Nope. It was worth a shot, though.

Connor dragged himself reluctantly out of bed and stumbled to the door.

"Oh. Hey, Angel. What's wrong?" he said sleepily as he stepped back to allow his father into the apartment. "Come in."

"You're hung over," Angel commented accusingly as soon as Connor had shut the door.

"Uh … Okay," Connor said, running both hands back through his hair, waiting for Angel to do something besides stand there and glare at him. "Do you … Do you want some coffee or something?"

"It makes me jittery," Angel said, continuing to glare.

"Oh," Connor said, sinking down into a chair in his living room and propping his head on his hand. He closed his eyes. "In that case, could you make me some?"

He could feel the dirty look he got in reply even with his eyes shut. He ignored it, hoping Angel would acquiesce. After a pause, he heard water running in the kitchen and knew his dad hadn't refused the request.

"You do know it's four in the afternoon?" Angel said when he eventually brought the coffee. Connor took it as he regretfully opened his eyes.

"I like cream in it," he said, frowning into the black of the mug.

"Tough," Angel replied, sitting down across from his son.

Connor considered making the trek to the fridge himself, but it was just too much work. He sipped the black coffee and made a face.

"I don't suppose you made it to your classes today?" Angel asked doubtfully.

"Maybe I only have night classes," Connor said elusively.

"You can't keep skipping class," Angel continued, ignoring the comment. "And don't even try to pretend you haven't been."

"I'm an adult," Connor said defensively into his coffee cup. "It's not high school. They aren't going to come round me up and charge me with truancy if I don't go."

"That isn't the point and you know it," Angel said testily. "And if you don't know it, you'd better learn it fast."

Connor stiffened slightly. He really didn't like where this was headed. Suddenly Angel was what? Mr. Enforcer? Some of those old contemptuous feelings toward his father attempted to surface, but he pushed them down and attempted to answer calmly.

"Geez," Connor replied. "Is this really what you came here to talk to me about?"

"Yes," Angel said simply.

"What, did Spike tell on me or something?" Connor asked, noticing that the pitch of his voice went up a little higher than he would have liked.

"He didn't have to," Angel said. "I knew when he came dragging in at 4 a.m. smelling like booze and you."

"Whoa," Connor said, shaking his head. "It's not like _that_."

"I didn't say it was."

"I like girls," Connor persisted, setting his coffee on the table with a thud. "I mean, just so we're clear."

"Trust me, I know you like girls," Angel responded, trying to suppress a grin.

"Well. Good," Connor said uncertainly. "Just so you know."

"You feeling more awake?" Angel asked.

"Yeah, I guess," Connor replied.

"Good," Angel said, standing.

He abruptly grabbed Connor's wrist and pulled him to his feet.

"Hey, what—" Connor got out before he found himself spun around and felt Angel smack him twice on the bottom, hard.

"You're going to classes tomorrow," Angel said, releasing his son's wrist. "All of them."

"Uh, ow!" Connor exclaimed angrily, backing away and putting the chair between himself and his father. "You can't just barge into _my _apartment and hit me!"

"Didn't barge. You invited me in," Angel responded calmly.

"Well, you can't be invited in and then hit me, either!" Connor argued.

Angel shrugged casually. "Just did."

"Well… Well, it was rude!" Connor said, putting his hands behind his back defensively, just in case. "And it hurt!"

"Please. You deserve a lot more," Angel said, crossing his arms. "I could always take off my belt. Or your pants."

"I'm nineteen!" Connor protested, blushing furiously.

"Yeah, I know," Angel said. "You told me before."

Connor's mouth fell open for a few seconds.

"You've got some nerve!" he finally shouted. "You have no right to—"

"I'm your father," Angel interrupted. "The father who is going to come by tomorrow and spank the daylights out of you if he finds out you deliberately disobeyed him and didn't attend _all_ your classes. Do you understand me?"

"You are really full of yourself," Connor said. "Please leave."

"Do you understand what I told you?" Angel repeated, not budging.

"Yeah. Yeah, I got it," Connor said, dismayed when his voice went up another octave. "Now get out. Please."

Angel raised his eyebrows but turned and left without another word.

* * *

Later that evening, Connor was lying on his bed reading a textbook when Spike made an appearance in his living room.

"Don't you knock?" Connor called irritably, not bothering to move.

"What for?" Spike asked genuinely, standing propped against the door frame in Connor's room.

"Never mind," Connor muttered, staring at his book.

"What you reading?" Spike asked.

"School stuff."

"I see. Well, put that away, and we'll go out and have ourselves a nice time," Spike said resolutely, already turning and heading towards the door.

"Can't," Connor said glumly. "I have a test tomorrow. I think. I hope it's tomorrow and wasn't yesterday."

"Well, if you don't even know what day the test is, you're not bloody likely to pass it, now are you?" Spike said. "So come on. Up and at 'em, Junior. The bars close at 2, you know."

"I can't go, Spike," Connor insisted. "I'm staying in tonight."

Spike regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before bursting into laughter.

"What?" Connor said indignantly.

"I know what this is about," Spike said airily. "Papa came over here and laid down the law, didn't he? Told you no more going out with ol' Spike."

"No," Connor denied, scowling. "I mean, yeah, he came over. But he didn't say I couldn't go out with you anymore."

"What did Nancy say, then?" Spike asked happily, inviting himself to have a seat on Connor's bed. He looked at him expectantly as if he were about to hear a great story.

"I don't want to talk about it," Connor replied, glaring at his book.

"I see," Spike said. "Well, come on, then. Let's go out and have a few drinks, and you'll soon forget all about your little scolding."

"He didn't scold me," Connor said, feeling the heat rise in his face.

"Ha. Right," Spike said, chuckling.

"He didn't," Connor insisted.

"Well, he scolded me," Spike said. "It's kind of his thing. He loves it."

Connor looked up in surprise.

Spike shrugged. "You learn to just ignore him after a couple decades."

"Why do you live with him?" Connor asked. "You guys don't even like each other."

Spike shrugged again. "Your dad and I have an understanding. Or a history, at least. Besides, he doesn't charge me rent."

"Well, I've missed a lot of my classes lately," Connor admitted, trailing off.

"I see," Spike said, nodding. "Liam went all parental on you, did he?"

Connor smiled. "Liam?"

"Er…Well, don't tell him you heard that from me, mate."

"He went a little parental on me, yes," Connor acquiesced. "He said I have to go to all my classes tomorrow."

"Or what?" Spike asked.

"Or else, I think," Connor said ambiguously.

"Well, all right," Spike sighed regretfully as he hopped up from the bed. "If you're sure, then."

"I'm sure," Connor said sullenly, returning to his book.

"I'll tell him you were studying like a good little boy," Spike said.

"Thanks," Connor replied, ignoring the condescending tone.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day was rough. Connor was used to rough days, but usually they were due to hangovers, not all-night cram sessions. He drank four cups of coffee before his first class, but he managed to stay awake. Not that it even mattered in the end, because he had indeed missed the exam. He wasn't sure yet what he was going to do about that, or if it meant he would fail the class.

Connor was discouraged, but attended the rest of his classes anyway. It certainly wasn't because of anything that Angel had said, he assured himself. He was just being responsible. Exhausted when he finally got home, Connor tossed his backpack onto the couch and rummaged through the refrigerator for something quick and easy. He stared long and hard at some cold pizza he found in there before smelling it tentatively and deciding it would do.

He was drowsily watching television when there was a knock at the door. He had a strong suspicion that he knew who it would be before he opened it, and he wasn't disappointed. Well, he was disappointed, but he wasn't wrong.

"Angel," he greeted coolly, stepping aside to let him in.

Connor didn't want to get into an argument with his father and decided not to waste any time beating around the bush.

"I went to all my classes today, so if you're here to beat my ass, you can forget it," he said brusquely.

"Glad to hear it," Angel said amicably. "Did you pass your test?"

"Um … What?" Connor asked, taken aback.

"Your test," Angel repeated. "Spike said you were studying for a test. Or was that a lie?"

"No, it wasn't a lie," Connor said carefully, trying to decide how much he should confess. "Why would I lie about it?"

"I'm not accusing you of lying," Angel clarified. "But Spike, sometimes he just says things..."

"Oh," Connor said weakly.

"So how'd you do? Did you ace it?"

Connor swallowed uncomfortably and found he had a sinking feeling in his stomach. His eyes flickered to Angel's, then settled on the coffee table.

"I missed the exam," he admitted quietly. "It was last class, not today."

"Why did you miss the last class?" Angel asked with a hard edge to his voice.

Connor shrugged one shoulder. It was the best answer he had.

"Did you talk to your professor about it?" Angel continued. "See if you could maybe make it up?"

Connor shook his head. "I didn't yet. But I'm going to. As soon as I figure out what to say."

"Hmm," Angel said.

"Am I … Am I in trouble?" Connor asked, feeling nervous and hating himself for it.

"What do you think?" Angel asked.

"I think you're about to put the beat down on me," Connor answered quietly. "But I wish you wouldn't."

"You don't think you deserve to be punished?" Angel asked conversationally, which was more unnerving than if he'd been yelling.

"I didn't say that," Connor muttered. "I just … I just didn't think we'd ever be doing this. I kinda thought we'd skipped those years. And honestly, no, I don't think this should count. I mean, you're kind of retroactively enforcing the going to class thing, aren't you? And getting a 0 on a test is bad enough..."

When Angel didn't respond, Connor glanced at him briefly before resigning himself to his fate.

"Just … Not over your knee this time, okay?" he implored, feeling utterly humiliated already. "I won't fight you. I-I'll just bend over or something, okay?"

"Okay," Angel agreed, and then pointed wordlessly to the couch.

Connor blushed a bright red as he walked to the couch and awkwardly leaned over the back of it, resting his hands on one of the cushions. Angel hadn't mentioned anything about his pants or them coming down, so he certainly didn't remind him.

"Am I getting the belt again?" he asked with dread.

"Quite possibly," Angel replied, and Connor groaned unhappily.

Connor reached back and removed his wallet from his jeans pocket. He tossed it on the couch beside him and said, "Okay. I'm ready."

He heard Angel unbuckle his belt and tensed up in anticipation.

"I'm sorry!" he blurted out before the first lick even fell. "I'm sorry, Dad, I'm really sorry!"

Angel swatted Connor five times with his belt in quick succession. Connor gasped at the sting it produced and continued his string of apologies and promises.

"I'm sorry! I'll go to class. I'll study every day. I won't stay out all night with Spike. I won't stay out all night with anyone!"

Connor caught his breath and braced himself for the rest, but realized after a few moments that no more were coming. He looked back tentatively at Angel to see that he was replacing his belt.

"Are … That's it?" he said hopefully.

"I think I got my point across. Unless you think you need more," Angel said, pausing.

"No!" Connor said, shaking his head. "I—that's fine. I'm fine. Can I get up now?"

"Yes."

Connor stood and turned to face his father. He ran the back of one hand absently over his bottom and cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I'll get it together."

"I know," Angel said confidently. "I'll help."

"I don't think I need your kind of help," Connor said, frowning. "I mean, this was a nice father and son bonding experience and all, but you can't … I mean, you can't do it anymore."

"Is that so?" Angel said, tipping his head back slightly as if to better examine his son.

"Well, yeah," Connor said uneasily. "I'm way too old to get … get treated like this."

Connor felt his face flush when Angel steadily met his gaze.

"I mean … Don't you think?" he said to his father uncertainly.

"I think you're in serious need of discipline," Angel answered immediately.

"Angel," Connor complained, embarrassed. "I'm not."

"Didn't those parents I got you have rules and structure? Consequences?" Angel asked.

"Of course they did," Connor replied hotly. "Leave them out of it."

"Do they know you've been staying out all night with unseemly sorts and blowing off school? Do they?" Angel pressed.

"Well, I didn't exactly bring it up," Connor said. "Mom would freak out. But I don't see why you're making such a big deal out of this. It's not like _you're_ paying my tuition."

Angel frowned, and Connor immediately regretted the words, but he couldn't take them back.

"I … I just meant, I have scholarships and stuff, so … So it's not like it's that big a deal," he said lamely.

"You're grounded," Angel said suddenly.

"What?" Connor said in disbelief. "You're grounding me? You hit me with a belt, and now I'm grounded, too?"

"Yes," Angel stated simply.

"Wha—for how long?"

"Until you've resolved this issue with your missed exam, and until you can prove to me that you can be responsible."

"I am responsible! I don't—I mean … This is totally unfair. I don't even know what you're grounding me _from_, but I'm pretty sure it's not fair!"

"You are not to leave this apartment for anything but class without my express permission," Angel clarified.

"You've gotta be kidding me!" Connor shouted. "That's just not right! I'm nineteen. I have a date on Friday! What am I supposed to tell her, I got _grounded_?"

"Tell her you can't go," Angel said, shrugging.

"No," Connor said, shaking his head. "No. You can't do this. And don't tell me that you can because you're my dad. No. You can't, and you couldn't enforce it anyway."

"Let me make this very clear for you, Connor," Angel said, irritation apparent in his voice for the first time. "This is not up for negotiation. This is a punishment. From your father. And unless you want me to be very displeased with you, you will stay here, in this very apartment, unless I tell you otherwise. Make no mistake—I can have someone baby sit you twenty-four hours a day if I have to."

"Oh my god!" Connor cried. "You've got some serious control issues!"

"You have some serious attitude issues," Angel countered. "Would you like me to adjust them for you?"

"What? No!" Connor huffed. "What I want is for you to leave."

"Fine. As long as you don't," Angel said, reaching for the door knob.

"Fine!" Connor yelled, not knowing what else to say.

As soon as Angel had gone, Connor turned around and kicked the back of the couch as hard as he could. It scooted a few feet across the floor before catching on a rug and turning over onto his coffee table.

"Great," he muttered, feeling embarrassed even though no one had seen it happen.

He righted the couch and attempted to clean off the remains of the god-knew-how-old pizza that had smeared across it and gotten on his backpack when it hit the table. Once it was clean—enough, anyway—he sank down into the couch and glared at the television until he fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, Connor had a class with the girl he was supposed to take out on Friday night. He contemplated the best way to break off the date, but ultimately decided no "good" way existed. He didn't mention it at all, and at the end of class told her with a forced smile that he'd see her the next night.

Connor had one foot in the door of the library when he realized that he should probably call Angel and ask permission to go there. He was fairly certain that the library qualified as "class," but he'd call anyway just to irritate his father. He stepped out and leaned against a column near the entrance to make his call.

"Hello, Connor," Angel said brightly.

"You learned how to use your caller ID?" Connor said with surprise, forgetting for a moment to sound angry.

"Yeah," Angel said. "Cool, huh?"

"Way," Connor agreed. "You'll be caught up with the twenty-first century in no time now."

"What's up?" Angel asked.

"Oh," Connor said, returning to his sour disposition. "I just wanted to know if I have your 'express permission' to go to the campus library."

"Of course," Angel answered.

"Thank you ever so much, _sir_," Connor said sarcastically, closing his phone without saying goodbye.

Connor returned some books and checked out some new ones that he needed. He took his time walking back to his apartment, and stopped at the machine outside his building to get a Coke.

"Psst," he heard from the alleyway.

He slowly leaned over to see past the drink machine. Spike stood in the shadows of the alley. He motioned him over. Connor rolled his eyes and sauntered toward him.

"Why are you acting creepy…er?" Connor asked. "Are you going to offer me some drugs? Some stolen goods?"

"Ha ha," Spike said dryly. "You might have noticed, it's daylight."

"Yeah," Connor said slowly. "And?"

"And I can't get into your apartment because the sun is shining directly on your front door," Spike said. "I need you to bring me a blanket and leave the door open so I can run up."

"Spike," Connor sighed. "No offense, but I don't really feel like company right now."

"Right," Spike said dismissively. "Up you go, then. It's almost time for _Passions_!" He pointed toward the stairs.

Connor trudged up the stairs. A few seconds later, he tossed a blanket over the railing. It landed almost in the sun, but he figured Spike could either get it himself or leave the way he got there. He waited patiently by the door as a smoking, yelping Spike ran past him into the living room.

"Thanks," Spike breathed, tossing the blanket to the floor and stomping on it. He looked at Connor apologetically. "Only a little bit of charring. Won't even be able to notice it."

"Yeah," Connor said doubtfully, pulling the shade down over his front window. "So, what do you want, Spike?"

"Now is that any way to treat your Uncle Spike?" Spike asked in mock seriousness. "I might just have to tell your father about how you were lollygagging at the pop machine…"

Connor grimaced. "He told you he grounded me?"

"He might have mentioned it," Spike said, making himself comfortable on the couch and turning on the television.

"Does no vampire understand the concept of privacy?" Connor said hotly, taking the remote from Spike and turning the TV back off. "Or is it just you and Angel?"

"Hey!" Spike protested. "I was watching that!"

"Go watch it at your house," Connor said, taking the remote with him to the kitchen. "I'm not sure I'm allowed to have you over, anyway."

"It's fine. I already asked him," Spike said.

"More punishment, I guess," Connor murmured.

"You got any blood in there?" Spike asked hopefully. "If so, bring me some."

"No. Why would I have blood? Gross."

"Your dad keeps chocolate Pop-Tarts," Spike said, looking pointedly at Connor. "And you know those aren't for him. And they're not for me, either. I like the strawberry."

"Touché," Connor said. "I'll … maybe I'll get some in here. If I'm allowed to go the butcher shop, or wherever it is you get it."

"You're really taking this seriously, aren't you?" Spike laughed incredulously. "You're gonna stay cooped up in the house being miserable because Daddy yelled at you!"

Connor blushed. "Well. I don't have much choice."

"Sure you do!" Spike said. He put his feet up on the couch. "You're practically a grown man. Just ignore it."

"Can't," Connor said, gathering ingredients for a grilled cheese sandwich.

"Sure you can. I'll teach you," Spike offered. "Step 1: Whatever Angel says, don't do it."

"What's Step 2?" Connor asked.

"Well, usually in my case, Step 2 is to duck," Spike said wryly. "But he probably won't pound on you."

Connor snorted but didn't say anything else on the topic, not sure how much Spike really knew about his punishment or his past.

"So, I'm sure I'll regret even asking you this…" he said as he returned to the living room with his food. He shoved Spike's feet off the couch and sat down.

"What?" Spike said absently, reaching out for the remote. Connor rolled his eyes and handed it over.

"I'm supposed to have a date tomorrow night."

"With a girl?" Spike asked.

"Yes, with a girl!" Connor said indignantly.

"So what's the problem?" Spike asked.

"I'm also supposed to be grounded," Connor reminded him.

"And? What's the _prob-lem_?" Spike said slowly.

"I knew I shouldn't have brought it up," Connor muttered.

"Go on your date. Have fun. That's what I would do," Spike advised.

"And when Angel finds out?"

"What makes you so certain he will?"

"He always finds out. Besides, you can't be trusted. You'd probably just tell on me to get him off your case," Connor said.

"Honestly, I am hurt!" Spike said, placing his hand over his unbeating heart.

Connor looked at him but didn't bother responding. He switched his gaze to the television.

"Look, kid," Spike said seriously. "Just have your fun. And if Angel finds out, you take your lumps, say you'll be a good boy, and promise to never ever do it again."

"Yeah," Connor said without conviction.

"And don't worry," Spike continued. "We never even had this conversation. Unless, you know, it'll get Angel off my case about something…"

Connor reached over and reclaimed the remote.


	5. Chapter 5

This chapter is heavy on the spanking, so please don't read it if that offends you.

* * *

Connor checked the clock again. It was 7 p.m. He was meeting Haley at the coffee shop at 8. He ran a comb through his hair for the third time, but it seemed it wasn't going to cooperate. He checked the clock again. If he hurried, he had time to jump back in the shower to try and tame his hair.

Another wash and dry later, Connor was satisfied that his hair was as good as it was going to get. He wrapped himself in a towel and stepped out of his bathroom into the living room, where he promptly screamed at the sight of his father.

"Angel! Jesus Christ! Don't you people _ever _knock?" he said angrily, retreating into the bathroom to put on some clothes.

"I did knock," Angel said defensively. "You didn't answer. And what do you mean, 'you people'?"

"And when I didn't answer, it didn't occur to you to go away?" Connor asked gruffly. He emerged from the bathroom and glared at his father.

"Sorry," Angel said, though he didn't sound sorry.

"What are you doing here?" Connor asked. "Did you come to check up on me, or what?"

"Well, yes and no," Angel said, fiddling with one of the trinkets on Connor's bookshelf. "I kinda felt bad about making you cancel your date. I was thinking, if you wanted to, maybe you and I could go see a movie together. If you wanted."

Connor swallowed hard, feeling a monstrous stress headache forming.

"Well, we don't have to. That's okay," Angel said after a moment of awkward silence. "I just thought—that's okay. Never mind."

"Angel," Connor said weakly.

"It's fine, Connor. I understand," Angel said, sounding disappointed.

"No, Dad, listen," Connor said, feeling incredibly guilty. "It's not that I wouldn't go with you. I'd love to do that sometime."

Connor sighed heavily and sank down onto the couch. He put his face in his hands and didn't look up as he said,

"You're gonna kill me."

Angel joined him on the couch. He pushed Connor's hands away from his face so he could look him in the eye. Connor met his gaze and thought for a split second about trying to lie his way out of it. He was sick; he was incredibly sick and that's why he couldn't see a movie with him. But he knew Angel wouldn't buy that.

"You didn't cancel your date, did you?" Angel said knowingly.

"No, sir," Connor replied miserably. "I was going to, really I was. But I just couldn't. I'm supposed to meet her in an hour. I'll … I guess I'll call her and tell her something came up."

"No," Angel said, sighing. "Go on your date. Have a good time."

Connor looked up, not quite believing what he'd heard and trying to decide if it had been sarcasm.

"I understand, Connor," Angel said reassuringly. "I was young once, too, a long time ago. I probably would have done the same thing."

"Really?" Connor said.

"Yeah," Angel replied. "I mean, more or less. It wouldn't have been a date so much as ravishing the bar maid in a barn, but yeah."

Connor leaned over and gathered his dad into an impromptu hug.

"You're going to beat my ass when I get home, huh?" he said, his arms still around Angel's neck.

"Oh yeah," Angel replied. "Just come over to the hotel when your date's over. You've got another date with my belt."

Connor groaned, both at this pronouncement and at his dad's sense of humor, but he couldn't help but smile. He released Angel and stood up to finish getting ready.

"Thanks, Dad," he said genuinely. "I really appreciate this."

"See you later, Connor," Angel said as he exited.

* * *

Connor knew he'd better make this date worth the punishment he'd be getting afterward. After coffee, he and Haley went to dinner and then to see a movie. Connor wondered what movie Angel would have wanted to take him to. He was pretty sure it'd have been the same chick flick Haley made him see. His dad didn't have the best taste.

After the movie, Haley wanted him to come back to her place, but Connor knew he'd delayed his punishment long enough. He regretfully told her goodnight and headed over to the Hyperion.

He pushed the door open gently, half expecting Angel to be standing there ready to grab him. He wasn't. No one was in the lobby.

"Hello?" he called quietly. Well, if Angel wasn't there, he would just have to go home…

"Hey, Junior," Spike said as he stumbled into the room drinking what appeared to be Scotch straight from the bottle. "What are you doing here? Come to party?"

"Oh. Spike. You're … drunk."

"Yeah. What of it? It's Friday night, idn't it?" He offered the bottle to Connor. "This is good stuff. I found it behind the counter. I guess it was Wesley's." He frowned.

"Um. No, thanks. I'm just looking for Angel."

"Oh. Okay, then. I'll get him," Spike said before turning around and yelling as loudly as he could up the stairs for Angel.

"Geez!" Connor said, laughing in spite of himself. "I could have done that myself!"

"You should try it sometime. A lot of fun. Pisses him right off."

"Oh. Good," Connor murmured. "I needed him to be more pissed off."

"What? What?" Angel said frantically as he barreled down the stairs. He stopped short at the sight of his child and Spike.

"Your spawn's here," Spike said simply, waving the Scotch in Connor's general direction.

"I didn't tell him to do that," Connor quickly clarified.

"Get lost for awhile, Spike," Angel said.

"Well, fine! That's just … that's just fffine!" Spike slurred. "I see how it is. No one wants me around."

He disappeared in the direction of the garden. Connor looked at Angel, who shrugged.

"He gets that way when he drinks alone sometimes," Angel said apologetically.

"Yeah," Connor said, feeling slightly nervous now that he was alone with his father. Maybe he should have taken some of that Scotch.

Angel descended the stairs and came to stand in front of him. Connor noticed his palms were sweating and absently ran them along the sides of his jeans.

"Did you have a good time?" Angel asked casually.

"I … I guess so," Connor answered, looking at his shoes.

"What did you do?"

"Coffee. Dinner. Movie. Hot sex," Connor replied. "Just kidding. She wanted me to come back to her place, but I told her I was due in my dad's woodshed."

Angel smirked. "Let's go up to my room and talk."

"Okay," Connor said miserably, following him up the staircase.

The hotel was kind of trashed. Furniture littered the hallway, and Connor saw several doors that were broken in.

Connor looked curiously around Angel's room. It was in better shape than the hallway, but not by much, and he had completely covered the windows in giant black drapes. Connor wondered why Angel didn't just stay in the basement, but he kept that to himself.

"Love what you've done with the place," he commented lightly. "Did you fire the housekeeping department?"

"Sit down," Angel said, pointing toward the bed.

Connor cautiously stepped around his father and sat on the edge of his bed. His hands were fidgety, so he put them under his legs. Angel pulled up a chair and sat directly across from him.

"Tell me why you did it," Angel said.

Connor cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I—I don't know. I guess I was just mad. And I didn't see why you should get to control my social life. I still don't see why."

"But you obeyed me the rest of the time. I know you did."

"Well. Yeah. But this was about a _girl_," Connor said urgently. "I guess I just flat out didn't want to cancel my date. I didn't know if she'd be willing to reschedule. And I didn't have anything to tell her that wouldn't have sounded like a lame excuse. Plus, she's smokin' hot."

"Were you planning to lie to me about it?" Angel asked sternly.

"About her hotness level? No, I'd have told you the truth," Connor joked. Seeing Angel's less than amused face, he continued awkwardly, "I—I just wasn't planning on mentioning it at all, I guess. Believe it or not, this wasn't about you."

Connor blushed and looked away. Angel stood and pulled him gently to his feet. He took his place at the edge of the bed and maneuvered Connor toward him until he was standing right between his knees.

"I understand why you did it," Angel said, tipping Connor's chin down so that he had to look him in the eye. "Do you understand why I'm doing this?"

"Yes," Connor whispered. "You told me to do something and I didn't do it."

"I want to help you learn to take responsibility for your actions, Connor. There are always consequences. Always."

Angel took Connor's wrist and pulled him down across his left knee so that his torso was resting on the bed. Connor groaned but didn't protest. He knew he wouldn't get to do this on his own terms.

"Wait!" he said suddenly. "Is Illyria here? Please tell me she's not here."

"She's not," Angel said.

"Gunn? What about Gunn? This is the last thing in the world I want him walking in on."

"Gone with Illyria. Some sort of road trip. I didn't ask. And for future reference, don't think for a minute that I will hesitate to do this just because someone else is here."

"Okay, Dad," Connor said quietly. "I got it."

Angel wasted no more time and brought his hand down hard across Connor's bottom. Connor yelped as he realized just how hard Angel hadn't hit him last time. He was soon squirming and attempting to get out of the way, but Angel just wrapped his right leg around both of Connor's and continued the assault on his backside.

"I'm sorry!" he moaned pitifully after what felt like a lifetime of spanking. "I won't do it again! I'll stay grounded."

"You'd better," Angel replied.

Angel twisted his body out from underneath Connor's and stood. Connor didn't bother to try and get up. He was sure they weren't done. He straightened out to where he was lying over the edge of the bed and took a deep breath as he heard his father removing his belt.

"Please, Dad," he heard himself saying, though he didn't remember initiating the thought.

Angel made no comment; he just raised the belt and spanked Connor hard and fast with it until he couldn't help but cry.

"Please! Please!" Connor begged, gripping the comforter for dear life. "I'll never do it again, never! I promise!"

Angel tossed his belt onto the floor and sat down next to his sobbing son. He smacked him one more time with his hand for good measure, then took him by the arm and pulled him over until he was sitting upright. Connor sobbed heartily and wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. He leaned over onto Angel's shoulder but wouldn't look at him.

"Was it really as bad as all that?" Angel asked softly when Connor's crying had died down.

"Yes," Connor said petulantly. "That _really_ hurt."

"You deserved it," Angel said.

"I know," Connor agreed. "But I don't understand why you're doing it. I mean, I understand why you did it just now. I got that loud and clear. But I mean, after all the stuff we've been through…"

Connor went to his father's bathroom and blew his nose. He was pretty sure his eyes were red, but Angel didn't have a mirror in which to check.

"I just mean—I'm The Destroyer, Angel," he said importantly as he emerged from the bathroom. "The Destroyer shouldn't get _spankings_. I spent my childhood in hell and no one spanked me there."

"Holtz never punished you?" Angel asked.

"I didn't say that," Connor replied, leaning against the door frame and staring awkwardly at his hands.

Angel stood and approached him. Connor looked up quickly and put his hands protectively behind him.

"I'm not talking back!" he said quickly. "I didn't mean it like that!"

"Relax," Angel said. "I'm not gonna whack you again."

"Oh," Connor said, blushing furiously. "I just … I don't think I like this new thing we're doing. You can't punish me like this for the rest of my life."

"I didn't intend to," Angel said.

"Then why—"

"Just let me be your father for a little while, okay?" Angel interrupted. "Even if you think you don't need me to be."

Connor nodded uncertainly and looked toward the door.

"You can go," Angel said.

"Thanks. I'll go straight home," Connor reassured him. "I promise."

Connor hurried out to make a quick escape and groaned inwardly as he spotted Spike in the lobby peering up the stairway with distinct interest.

"You heard all that, didn't you?" Connor asked, dreading the answer.

"What'd you let him hit you for?" Spike said accusingly as he crossed his arms over his chest. He'd apparently sobered up quickly.

Connor felt his face turn red for the—probably fifteenth—time that day.

"Oh, geez. Can we please not talk about this, ever?" Connor said. "Please?"

"You let him do that once, and he'll think he can do it whenever he likes, you know," Spike continued, following Connor out the front door of the hotel.

"He won't," Connor said.

"Oh, he'll do it again," Spike said adamantly. "You just mark my words, boy."

"He won't do it unless I give him a reason," Connor amended quietly.

"You've bloody lost your mind!" Spike said angrily. "Hello? This is Angel we're talking about here. He is Mr. Controlling. Now you've gone and given him permission to beat you into submission whenever he likes. You'll never get to do anything now."

"Spike, please," Connor sighed wearily. "I really don't want to talk about it with you. Not now. Not ever."

"I'm just tryin' to wrap my head around it's all," Spike said. "Don't understand why you'd let him get the best of you like that. You could have told him no. You could have popped him right in the mouth, for that matter."

"It wouldn't have made things any better," Connor said, agitated. "I'm not you. He's … He's not my rival, Spike. He's my dad. And he didn't get the best of me. It wasn't like that."

Spike fell silent but continued to follow Connor down the sidewalk. Connor had almost forgotten he was there until he heard, "Well, where are you going, then?"

"I'm going home, to be grounded," Connor said.

"Oh," Spike said, disappointed. "Are you sure you don't want to go out? Have some fun?"

Connor abruptly stopped and rounded on him.

"No, Spike! Leave me alone! I just promised Angel that I would go straight home. I don't want to get in trouble with him again!"

Connor looked around, too late, to see if anyone was within earshot. He groaned and quickly walked away from Spike toward his apartment.

"All right, then," Spike muttered to himself as he turned back toward the hotel. "At least he took my advice and promised to never do it again."

* * *

Connor actually felt a weird sense of relief now that he'd survived a seriously fatherly punishment from Angel. He'd been incredibly nervous, and it had hurt like hell at the time, but the pain was fading. Once he was home, he went into the bathroom and slipped his jeans down to survey the damage. He was kinda disappointed that he didn't have more to show to justify all the crying he'd done. He ran his hand gingerly over a spot he thought was definitely going to bruise, and winced. Satisfied that he wasn't going to have any lasting damage, he pulled his pants back up and went to lie on his bed.

He lay on his stomach and pulled a pillow up under his chin. He wondered if things had been different, if he'd grown up here with Angel instead of in Quor-toth, if Angel would have punished him this way. He knew now that his dad would do anything for him, and Angel certainly seemed to believe that he was doing this for Connor's own good, but a part of him couldn't help but wonder if the spankings weren't just partial payback for dumping him into the ocean. If so, Connor figured he was completely justified.

He sighed and reached back with both hands to rub his aching bottom. One thing was for sure—he was staying in the apartment until Angel told him he was freed.

* * *

_A/N: For those of you who love Connor, you should check out the Angel: After the Fall comics. They are the canonical continuation of the series, and they are actually pretty great. There's lots of Angel and Connor interaction, and Connor is a lovely, well-adjusted guy._


	6. Chapter 6

Connor awoke early Saturday morning to the delightful sound of pounding on his front door.

"Open up!" he heard Spike yell. "Hurry, Junior!"

Connor groaned. He opened one eye, then closed it, hoping Spike would just go away.

"Come on, now!" Spike called through the door. "Do you really want to be responsible for your Uncle Spike burning to death on the front porch?"

Connor reluctantly got up and went to the door, more because he was concerned about his neighbors hearing the commotion and filing a noise complaint than because he thought Spike would burst into flames. He opened the door and immediately headed toward the couch to lie down, ignoring the frantic vampire who slammed the door shut.

Spike tossed his blanket into the floor.

"It's dawn," he said.

"No, not yet," Connor murmured, one arm slung over his eyes. "You'd have been fine for a few more minutes."

"No," Spike said urgently, coming over and slapping Connor's legs off the couch so he could sit down.

"Ow!" Connor said. "That was kinda hypocritical, don't you think?"

"It's dawn," Spike said urgently, ignoring the comment.

"Am I supposed to get up at dawn for you now or something?" Connor asked, confused. "Because if you want me to make you breakfast, you can forget it."

"No, you twit. Dawn! Buffy's sister, Dawn!" Spike said angrily. "I swear, your noggin is as thick as your dad's."

"Huh?" Connor said, pulling himself into a sitting position and leaning against the arm of the couch. "Oh. What about her?"

Spike was silent a moment—for once—and Connor could see that he was biting the inside of his cheek.

"She's in town," he finally said.

"Okay," Connor said. "And?"

"I don't know," Spike admitted with a sigh, lying back against the couch. "Never mind, I guess."

"Is Buffy with her?" Connor said, finally catching on. "I'd like to meet her."

Spike bristled slightly.

"What do you know about Buffy?" he asked curiously. "What did Daddy Dearest tell you?"

Connor cleared his throat and got to his feet. He went to his small kitchen and put on some coffee while he answered the question.

"She's a Slayer. Dad loves her, because he's tragic like that. Blew up Sunnydale. Has a witch friend and an annoying friend named Xander. Sister Dawn. That's about it."

Spike frowned deeply.

"What?" Connor asked. "Did I leave something important out?"

"No. It's nothing," Spike answered.

"Would this have anything to do with why you were sloshed without me last night?" Connor asked.

"No," Spike lied, but his heart wasn't in it.

"Yeah, right," Connor said knowingly. "So if they're in town, why haven't they contacted my dad?"

"Just got in last night," Spike said. "Maybe they don't plan to contact him. I don't know. Everything's not about Angel, you know. I swear sometimes you're as bad as he is. And it's not 'them,' just her. Just Dawn."

"She's here by herself?" Connor said. "How old is she?"

"Too young for you," Spike said automatically.

Connor rolled his eyes.

"She's seventeen or so, I reckon," Spike answered.

"How do you know she's here?" Connor asked.

"I've got my ways," Spike said mysteriously.

"Okay," Connor said, slurping his coffee.

"How's your hide?" Spike suddenly asked, causing Connor to spill coffee all down the front of his t-shirt.

"Not appropriate conversation," he replied tersely, dabbing at the stain with the nearest discarded paper towel he could find.

"Did he hurt you bad?" Spike asked with genuine concern.

"I'm alive, aren't I?" Connor said, still mopping at the coffee even though it was as cleaned as it was going to get.

"He has no right to hit you, you know," Spike continued.

"Yeah, I tried that line, too," Connor said. "It didn't work."

"Well, what did he … I mean … what did he _do_, exactly?" Spike pressed, peering straight into Connor's eyes.

"I don't want to talk about it," Connor repeated for the umpteenth time.

"Let me see your back," Spike demanded suddenly.

"What?" Connor said, shaking his head. "No."

"I heard the strap falling. Let me see your back," Spike repeated, getting to his feet and taking a step toward Connor looking like he had every intention of ripping the shirt off him if he didn't cooperate.

"Spike … He didn't hit me there," Connor said, embarrassed. "It wasn't like that."

"Oh," Spike said, confused. "So he just … oh."

"Look," Connor said, resting his face in his hands so he could get this over with without having to look at Spike. "He kinda caught me when I was about to go out on the date he told me to cancel. You know, the same one _you_ told me to go on. And … and he let me go, but told me I was going to get it later, you know."

"I see," Spike said.

"So afterward, when I came to the hotel, he just … he did what he said he was going to do," Connor explained awkwardly. "Put me over his knee like a little kid and busted my butt."

"Oh," Spike said, frowning deeply and looking uncomfortable. "The belt, then?"

"All on the seat of my pants," Connor assured him.

"Hurt?" Spike asked with mild interest.

"Yes, it hurt!" Connor said hotly. "It's Angel."

"Right," Spike agreed. "He only knows one way to hit. Hard."

"Why are you taking this so personally?" Connor asked.

"He let you go on the date, though," Spike observed, ignoring the question. "He shouldn't have done that. Should have smacked you good and hard right then."

"Hey!" Connor said indignantly.

"Angel always was a bit soft," Spike said, getting to his feet.

"What?" Connor said, shaking his head sharply at Spike's sudden about-face. "Not two minutes ago you were—you know what, I don't even care."

"Right," Spike said dismissively. "I'll come back later. You get some sleep."

"You don't have to come back later," Connor pointed out.

Spike waved what appeared to be a rude gesture over his shoulder and disappeared out the door, not even taking his blanket with him.


	7. Chapter 7

Connor looked anxiously at his phone again. He really needed to make the call, but it would be so awkward. He was going to be late if he put it off any longer, and then his mother would fuss on him. Maybe if he just sent a text message it would be easier. Did Angel even know how to text?

_HEY I HAVE TO..._

No, that didn't sound right. Too demanding. He cleared it out.

_I'M SUPPOSED TO GO..._

No, that wasn't any good, either.

_I WANT..._

Definitely not.

_IS IT OKAY IF I HAVE DINNER WITH MY FAM..._

This was really a lot harder than it needed to be.

_OKAY WITH YOU IF I HAVE DINNER WITH THE REILLYS TONIGHT?_

Connor snapped the phone shut and blew a strand of hair out of his eyes. His dad … his second dad … no, his third dad—whatever he was—would be on him to get a haircut again.

The phone buzzed, and Connor found he was anxious to read the reply. He flipped it open and smiled when he saw the words.

_This is Spike. Angel's too stupid to text. But he said yeah. Call later._

Connor thought briefly about just relaying all future messages through Spike, but then he pictured how easily "Hey, I'll be there soon" could come out of Spike's mouth as "Your spawn says he can be late if he bloody well wants to and also for you to get stuffed." Maybe that wasn't the best idea after all.

Saturday night pizza with the Reillys went as well as Connor had expected it would. His teenage sister had thrown a fit halfway through the movie they were watching when their mother had refused to let her go to a friend's house. As she stomped off to her room loudly lamenting the unfairness of the world, Connor's mother had reached out and touched him on the cheek fondly, proclaiming, "You were such a good little boy. I'm so glad you never acted that way." He just gave her a wry smile.

Several goodbyes and a long, uncomfortable bus ride later—why did no one trust him to have a car?—Connor was back in his own neighborhood. He called Angel as he leisurely walked to his apartment.

"What?" Angel answered, sounding put out.

"Oh. Hey, Dad," Connor said. "Everything okay?"

"Hi, son. Sorry. Didn't mean to snap at you. Things are fine."

"Well, just wanted to tell you I'm back from dinner. Heading home."

"Why don't you stop at the hotel before you go home?" Angel suggested.

"Um. I can," Connor said, racking his brain to see if he'd done anything that would have gotten him on his father's bad side again so soon.

"You're not in trouble," Angel said, and Connor could hear the amusement on his face. "Just want to see you."

"Okay. Sure," Connor said, more agreeable now that he'd been reassured of his "not in trouble" status. "Be there soon." _And get stuffed_, he added in a British accent in his head.

Connor was halfway through the window of his old room at the Hyperion when he heard the muffled shriek. A wide-eyed girl regarded him warily from the bed. Connor had joined her there within seconds.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," he said quickly, holding his hands up in a conciliatory manner. "I'm Connor."

"Good for you," the girl said petulantly, pulling her legs into her chest.

"Okaaaay," Connor said slowly, not having expected a retort like that. This girl would probably get along well with his sister.

"I'm Dawn," she finally divulged with a huff.

"Ah," Connor said. "So, what are you doing in my room?"

"Your room?" she asked.

"Well, it used to be. When I lived here."

"You lived here?" she asked skeptically. "If you lived here, why did you just crawl in through the window? Come to take me to Neverland?"

Connor shrugged, thinking she had a good point. "Old habit, I guess."

"Dawn, who are you talking—Oh. Connor. You came in through the window again, didn't you?" Angel asked as he pushed the door open.

"Hi, Dad," Connor said, getting to his feet.

"I do have a door, you know," Angel said, frowning.

"Sorry," Connor said, smiling sheepishly. "I forgot."

"Uh, hello?" Dawn interrupted. "Does anyone plan to tell me what the hell?"

Connor's eyes widened at her tone. He looked to Angel to see what he would say.

"I guess you met Dawn," he said tiredly.

"I'm right here. You don't have to talk about me like I'm not," she said sulkily. "God!"

"Dawn," Angel said in what Connor immediately recognized as his warning tone. "Come downstairs, please. You too, Connor."

"Yes, sir," his mouth replied automatically, responding to his father's tone of voice even though he knew he wasn't the one in trouble. He groaned inwardly, but Angel thankfully didn't seem to think anything about it. Dawn, however, mouthed a disbelieving "_Sir_?" at him as soon as Angel had turned his back. Connor blushed and quickly followed his dad out of the room.

"So, Angel has a son," Dawn muttered to herself after proper introductions and brief explanations had been made. "Angel has a son, and does anyone bother to tell me this? No, of course not. No one ever tells me anything."

"We're telling you now," Angel said tiredly.

Dawn rolled her eyes and huffed in reply. Connor was really starting to worry she might push Angel past his limit, so he quickly attempted to change the subject.

"So, have you ever been to L.A. before?" he asked brightly. "It's a pretty cool place to visit."

"I'm _from _here," she said snottily.

"Oh. Sorry," he said. "I didn't know."

"Dawn, I'm gonna need a little less attitude," Angel said quietly. "Or you can go back to your room."

"Not even my room. Was _his_," she said accusingly, jerking her head toward Connor. She gave Angel an impressive glare.

"Connor, I need to see you in the kitchen for a moment, please," Angel said tightly as he took Connor by the upper arm and practically dragged him there.

"Please take her," he said as soon as they'd gotten through the doors. He ran both hands over his face, rubbing at his eyes. "Please."

Connor tried not to, but he laughed.

"Take her where?"

"I don't know. I don't care. Just take her out for awhile," Angel said. "Please. Here." He grabbed his wallet and handed Connor all the cash from it without even checking the amount. That had to be a first. "Go. Do things. Take a long time to do them."

"Okay," Connor laughed, taking the money Angel offered him and stuffing it into his pocket.

"Where's Spike?" he asked suddenly. "He might wanna come. He seemed really concerned about Dawn this morning."

"I don't know. He left after she screamed at him nonstop for fifteen full minutes."

"Wow," Connor said, impressed. "Why'd she do that?"

"Because," Angel said, looking slightly guilty. "Because nobody told her … We didn't tell her he was alive. Or here. Walking dead, whatever. She didn't know. Thought he was gone."

"Smooth, Dad," Connor said, raising his eyebrows.

"I don't need your judgments right now," Angel said, swiftly pushing Connor's shoulders toward the door. "Out. Go. Fun things that kids like to do. No drinking. No drugs. No sex."

"Can we steal things?" Connor asked, amused.

"Don't tempt her," Angel said cynically before pulling Connor to him in a crushing hug.

"What was that for?" Connor asked.

"For being born a boy. Now go."

Connor shrugged and shoved the kitchen doors open. Dawn stood at the counter idly flipping through an old book.

"Don't touch that!" Angel snapped, shoving past his son and bounding toward her at a pace that clearly alarmed her. She pulled both hands away from the book and held them in the air.

"I didn't do anything!" she said. "Sorry!"

"It's okay," Angel said, but he yanked the book away from her anyway. "It's just … This just really isn't something you should be handling."

"Well, maybe next time you won't leave it on the counter where anyone can see it," she murmured.

"It was in a sealed box in the corner!" Angel exclaimed.

"Whatever you say," Dawn said, examining her fingernails.

Connor took the amount of working that Angel's jaw was doing as a sign that they should get out of there fast.

"Hey, Dawn. We're gonna go out for awhile, you and me," he said enthusiastically.

Dawn crossed her arms over her chest and looked him up and down appraisingly. Her findings were apparently less than satisfactory.

"What makes you think I'm going anywhere with you?"

Connor glanced to Angel for help.

"Dawn," Angel said slowly, closing his eyes and taking a calming breath. "I assure you that Connor will be a perfect gentleman. And he may not look like much—"

"Hey!" Connor interrupted.

"—But there is no one's ass that he can't kick. Except maybe mine. And at this point, that's a big maybe."

Connor flushed with pleasure at the unexpected, underhanded praise.

"Fine," Dawn conceded. "I'll go."


	8. Chapter 8

Dawn wanted pizza. Connor had already eaten like, a ton of pizza, but he certainly didn't intend to incur her wrath by mentioning that. He took her to a place he knew that was both delicious and laid-back, with televisions attached to the walls so they didn't have to talk to each other too much. Dawn turned into a different person once she had food in her mouth, though, and began chattering on excitedly about all kinds of things—with food in her mouth. Connor figured she must have been so grumpy because she was hungry. He should probably mention that to Angel.

"So..." Connor said during a lull in conversation.

"You're not eating your pizza," Dawn observed critically. "What are you, some kinda weirdo who doesn't like pizza?" She lowered her voice and leaned across the table toward him. "You don't drink blood, do you?"

Connor laughed. "Nope. I'm one hundred percent … Well, I'm human, anyway. Unclear on the ratios."

"Must be nice," Dawn muttered.

"What do you mean?" Connor asked, and Dawn rolled her eyes.

"I didn't always look like this," she explained.

"Are you a demon?" Connor asked.

"What? No!" she exclaimed, clearly insulted.

Connor shrugged. "Some of my best friends are demons."

"Well, I'm not," she said, letting that go unquestioned. "I was … I don't know. Some stupid ball of energy or something. Some monks made me human so Buffy would take care of me."

"Wow."

"Yeah. It was kind of a big deal a few years ago. But everyone seems to have forgotten about it now," she said, almost longingly. "Now I'm just little Dawnie, always in the way or screwing things up."

"Sometimes it's better when people forget things," Connor said absently as he pulled some sun-dried tomatoes off his slice of pizza and laid them aside.

"Huh?" Dawn asked.

"Hmm?" Connor murmured, preoccupied now with his own thoughts.

"You said it was better to forget things sometimes?" Dawn prompted.

"Oh. Well. That must be true," Connor said, giving her his best false smile. "Because I already forgot what I was talking about. Let's get out of here. We'll catch a movie or something."

"Okay. But I don't want to go to a movie. Let's go down to the boardwalk. I saw an ice cream stand on our way here."

"Sure," Connor readily agreed, wondering how she could possibly want ice cream after all the pizza she'd just eaten. He'd learned from his mother that that was one of those questions best left unasked.

* * *

"So, what are you doing here, anyway?" Connor finally asked as they sat on the pier with their legs hanging down the side. "Don't you have school or something?"

Dawn rolled her eyes and took a big bite of ice cream before answering.

"Yeah. But my stupid sister had business here and refused to let me stay by myself. So of course I had to come to Angel. Not that I would even be by myself at home. It's not like you can get a moment's peace with all those other Slayers. And they throw their clothes _everywhere._ And Giles. And Xander. And Andrew. He throws his clothes everywhere, too..."

"Your sister's in L.A. too?" Connor asked, managing to pick up on that through all the other stuff.

Dawn gave him a wide-eyed guilty look that clearly stated that she wasn't supposed to have mentioned that.

"You can't tell Angel," she blurted out.

"Okay," Connor agreed, easily enough. "But why the big secret?"

"I don't know," Dawn said around another mouthful of ice cream. "She fed me some line about him being a distraction. But now that I know Spike's back—and that ho probably knew it all along and didn't bother to tell me—I'm betting it's more because of him."

"Spike?" Connor asked, confused. "What's he got to do with it?"

Dawn gave him a teenaged "oh my god, don't you know anything" look, which he countered with his best "by all means, tell me how it is" gesture.

"Buffy and Spike kinda had a thing there for awhile," Dawn explained. "A gross, wrong thing."

"Oh," Connor said, surprised. "My dad did _not_ mention that."

"I bet not," Dawn said, laughing slightly. "I'm sure he's probably in denial about it."

"Why was it gross and wrong?" Connor asked. "Because he's a vampire? Or because … Because he's sort of related to Angel, and she was his girlfriend first..."

Connor cleared his throat uncomfortably, trying to push this newfound similarity between him and Spike out of his mind.

"No," Dawn replied. "Not because he's a vampire. Angel's a vampire. And let's face it, they're both totally hot."

"I am so not going to comment on that," Connor said, smiling. "But go on."

"Spike was evil when they were screwing around. Well, evil-lite at least. It's a long story."

"He didn't have his soul yet," Connor said, nodding.

"Yeah," Dawn confirmed. "But at least with Spike she was legal."

"Huh?" Connor asked, and Dawn gave him an excited grin, delighted to have someone to expose her sister's perceived misdeeds to.

"You don't know? She was totally underage when she dated Angel."

"My dad's a cradle robber?" Connor asked.

Dawn nodded. "One time, I walked in on them kissing in her room when she was supposed to be grounded. Angel gave me twenty bucks not to tell Mom."

Connor laughed.

"And she totally gave it up to Angel, too," Dawn continued. "I mean, not that night. Some other night."

"Did they pay you off to keep that secret, too?" Connor asked.

"Please," Dawn said, rolling her eyes. "We had a lot bigger problems after that night. Your dad went crazy wicked evil and tried to end the world." She said the last three words with a sarcastic flourish as if these things happened all the time.

"Oh," Connor said. "Yeah. I guess I kinda knew some of that. The whole curse thing."

"She brought it on herself," Dawn said, dismissing it with a roll of her eyes. "At least with Angel, she wanted it. She may have forgiven Spike for what he did, but I haven't."

"What do you mean?" Connor asked uneasily.

Dawn shook her head like she didn't want to talk about it. Connor was willing to grant her that, but he felt the unrest that settled over their previously lighthearted conversation—well, as lighthearted as a conversation about evil vampires and apocalypses could be.

Connor pulled his legs in from over the pier and stood. He offered Dawn a hand to help her up, and caught the pleased expression she quickly tried to hide.

"Connor?" he suddenly heard from behind him.

He spun around to see Haley standing there looking distinctly put out.

"Haley!" he said, pleasantly surprised. "Hi. I didn't expect to see you out here."

"I'll bet not," she said pointedly, glancing disdainfully toward Dawn, who immediately responded in kind by crossing her arms over her chest and plastering a scornful look on her face.

"Oh!" Connor said, finally realizing the misunderstanding. "This is Dawn. She's nobody." Well, that had been the wrong thing to say. "I mean … I don't mean nobody. Of course she's not nobody. She's my … my cousin. Sort of."

Haley arched one disbelieving eyebrow before removing the lid from her soft drink and dousing him in it. Connor gasped and pulled his shirt out away from his body in an attempt to keep the cold liquid from running down onto his pants.

"I guess she's why you were so anxious to get away from me last night," Haley said accusingly. "Don't call."

Connor stood completely still as she stormed away, shocked at this horrible turn of events. He finally turned toward Dawn, and the pronounced smirk on her face told him that she thought he'd deserved every bit of it.

"I'm going back to the hotel," she said decidedly, and began walking.

Connor followed her, too worn out to do anything else.


	9. Chapter 9

Angel looked up from the very book that Dawn had been flipping through earlier. He'd had both his hands in his hair, so it stuck up even more than normal.

"What'd you do?" he asked to no one in particular when he saw the bedraggled duo.

"Nothing," they both answered.

"I'm going to bed," Dawn announced sourly, heading immediately for the stairs. "If anyone even cares what this nobody does."

At the questioning look on Angel's face, Connor shrugged and said, "Women are hard."

"Tell me about it," Angel agreed. He nodded toward Connor's shirt. "She throw that drink in your face?"

"Nah," Connor answered. "Someone else."

"I'll get you something to change into," Angel offered, heading toward his office.

"No, that's okay," Connor said awkwardly, but Angel didn't stop. "It'll dry. I was gonna head home anyway."

"It's pretty late," Angel observed, handing him one of his own shirts. "You could just stay here. If you wanted."

"You just don't want to be alone with Dawn," Connor accused, grinning.

"That might be some of it," Angel admitted. "But I mean it. If you ever want to stay here, you can."

"Thanks," Connor said noncommittally, changing into the shirt Angel gave him. It was purple and too big, but at least it was dry.

Angel sighed, giving a frustrated scowl at his book. "I miss Wesley. He was always better at this stuff."

"I'm sorry," Connor said quietly at his father's candid remark. "I miss Fred. She made the best baloney sandwiches."

They both missed Cordelia, but that went without saying.

Angel didn't appear to be up for further conversation, so Connor pulled from his pocket what was left of the cash Angel had given him and laid it on the counter.

"Keep it," Angel said without looking up. "Babysitting fee."

Connor smiled. "You better hope Dawn never finds out you said that."

* * *

"Spike. You're in my house," Connor observed as he opened his apartment door. "Of course you are."

"Hey," Spike said listlessly, and after a brief glance in Connor's direction, added, "You get that royal purple shirt from his highness?"

"Oh," Connor said, looking down. He'd almost forgotten. "Yeah."

"Picking out your clothes for you now, is he?" Spike said, smirking.

"No. It's his. I just borrowed it. Some girl threw a drink on me."

"Dawn," Spike said, nodding.

"No," Connor said, throwing his wet t-shirt toward Spike on the couch. "Some other girl, believe it or not."

"Impressive."

"What can I say? The ladies love me," Connor joked dryly as he sat down beside Spike.

"Angel conned you into taking Dawn off his hands for awhile, I take it?" Spike guessed.

"Yeah. Gave me money and everything."

"No way. Angel never parts with his money," Spike said seriously. "He's always been like that."

"I must be special," Connor said.

"You know," Spike said conspiratorially, "you could probably use this to get out of being grounded."

Connor shook his head. "Then I'd have to spend more time with her."

"Hey!" Spike said, suddenly defensive. "Don't talk about the bit like that. She's a great girl. Just..."

"Hormonal?" Connor supplied.

"Yeah."

"She said you were hot," Connor informed him.

"Oh yeah?" Spike asked. "I'm not sure how I feel about that … I taught that girl how to play her first game of poker."

"If it makes you feel any better, she said Angel was hot, too," Connor offered.

Spike gave him a pointed look. "It doesn't help. It really doesn't."

"I'm just the messenger," Connor said with a shrug as he sank back into the couch and stared toward the muted television. "Is this _Titanic_?"

"Never mind that," Spike said hurriedly, flipping the TV off. "What else did Dawn say?"

"I don't know. Lots of stuff."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Fine. Make me beg. About _me. _What did she say about _me_?"

Connor met his gaze briefly, trying to decide if he should even bring it up. He had a feeling this was exactly what Spike was wondering about, so he did.

"She said … She said that Buffy may have forgiven you for what you did to her, but that she hasn't."

Spike nodded but didn't reply.

"What did she mean, exactly?" Connor finally asked, curiosity getting the better of him. "What did you do to Buffy?"

"Well," Spike said slowly. "I'm not trying to make excuses for myself, but bear in mind that I didn't have my soul then..."

"Okay," Connor said, inviting him to continue.

"So, if you'd kindly hold off on the staking of yours truly until I get the whole story out..."

"Okay," Connor repeated.

"I'm serious, Connor. I know you have a tendency to fly off the handle like your old man."

"Do not," Connor muttered. "Just shut up and tell the story."

"We'd been sort of … seeing each other, you know. But then she said she didn't want to see me anymore. I guess I've never been good at hearing no. And I thought, if she'd just let me … if I could just touch her again, she'd see that she wanted to be together."

"You raped her?" Connor whispered, feeling sick.

"It didn't get that far," Spike said quickly. "And that wasn't my intention when I showed up there. It just got all out of control."

Connor nodded slightly. "Does Angel know?"

"I'm not sure. I certainly didn't tell him. Your father would have staked me and then had Wolfram & Hart bring me back so he could do it again."

"Probably."

"I really hated myself for that," Spike continued. "And that's when I went out and got myself a fancy new soul."

"So she'd want to be with you again?" Connor said.

"I hoped so, but..."

"Yeah," Connor said. "Women are hard."


	10. Chapter 10

There's a bit of bad language in this chapter.

* * *

Sunday meant it was time to get ready to start thinking about what to tell his geology professor in the morning. Connor mulled over several excuses and explanations for why he had missed his exam, from "I got stuck in traffic" to "I had the flu" to "My grandmother died." None of those sounded plausible even to his own ears—he knew, because he'd practiced saying them aloud to see how genuine he could make them. Connor was a terrible liar. No wonder his parents … and Holtz … and now Angel had caught him in nearly every deceit he'd ever attempted.

He looked at photos of gypsum and feldspar until his eyes went bleary, and was glad for the reprieve when the phone rang.

"Hey," he said, after checking the display and seeing it was Spike.

"Hey. I don't suppose you've seen Dawn?" Spike asked, getting straight to business.

"Um, no. Not today," Connor said. "Why, is she missing?"

A loud pounding on the front door drowned out Spike's answer. Connor opened it to see the girl in question standing on his porch smiling at him guiltily.

"I'll call you back," he said into the phone before snapping it shut.

"So, can I come in?" Dawn said after they had stared at each other for a few moments.

"Yeah. Sorry," Connor said, shaking his head. "I didn't know you knew where I lived."

"Spike told me."

"Does he know you're here?" Connor asked, though he was fairly certain from the phone call he'd just received that he already knew the answer to that question.

At that moment, Dawn's cell phone rang loudly, and she turned it off without even looking to see the caller. Connor crossed his arms and regarded her doubtfully, but then he realized how much that probably made him look like Angel, so he relaxed a bit.

"Why'd you run off?" he asked.

"I did not 'run off,'" she scoffed. "I just came to see you for a little while. That's all. Is that okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it's fine," Connor said, wondering at how quickly she'd gotten over her anger at him for his unfortunate choice of terms the night before. "I was just doing some studying. Have a seat if you want. I'll be right back."

Connor walked into his bathroom and shut the door behind him. He quickly sent a text message to Spike telling him Dawn's whereabouts and offered to keep her company for a few hours. Spike replied with an ambiguous "k." Connor really hated that.

He shoved his phone into his pocket and washed his hands. He plastered what he hoped was a friendly smile on his face and returned to the living room to find Dawn going through his books.

"If you wanted to go to class for me tomorrow, that'd be great," he said. "I mean, as long as you pass."

"Please," Dawn said, holding up one of his textbooks. "I can't even pronounce the name of this one."

Connor grinned. "Yeah. Me neither."

Dawn looked around awkwardly, seemingly at a loss for conversation now that they had depleted their supply of small talk.

"So, seriously," Connor started. "Did you get in a fight with my dad or something? Because, I mean, I know he can be pretty overbearing sometimes, but he doesn't mean to be. He's just old."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Angel's still asleep."

"Really?" Connor asked, surprised. It seemed to him that Angel never slept.

"Yeah. Stayed up all night reading that stupid book that he wouldn't even let me look at."

"Huh," Connor replied. "Odd."

"I know!" Dawn exclaimed, taking the conversation off in her own direction. "And Giles lets me help with research all the time, so I don't see what the big deal is. It's not like I'm some little kid."

"Yeah," Connor replied, piling his books onto the floor beside the couch and having a seat. He turned on the television.

"If you need to study, I can go," Dawn said, watching him carefully.

"No!" Connor said quickly. "It's fine. I'm tired of studying, anyway."

"Well, maybe we could go have a late lunch together or something. Somewhere without sodas, in case we run into another one of your jealous girlfriends."

Connor laughed. "She wasn't my girlfriend."

"Oh?" Dawn said with way too much interest in her voice. "Just what, then? An acquaintance? A cousin? _Nobody_?" So she hadn't quite let that go after all.

"We had one date," Connor answered. "And I think that's the only date we're going to have."

"Thanks to me," Dawn said glumly, staring at the floor.

"Hey, it's not your fault," Connor said gently. "If anything, you did me a favor. This way I found out early on that she was a crazy person."

"Yeah," Dawn said, brightening. "So how about that lunch?"

"I think we should stay here," Connor said elusively.

"Why?" Dawn asked suspiciously. "You told them where I was, didn't you? And now they're on their way here to take me back to that piece of crap hotel."

"What? No," Connor said, figuring it was only half a lie and didn't count. "Besides, it's the middle of the day. They wouldn't come for you right now."

"Sure," Dawn said, unconvinced. "Then why can't we go to lunch?"

"Let's call and order something for delivery," Connor offered, reaching for a phone book. "There's a good Thai place nearby. Or we could have pizza again if you want."

"You _can_ go out in the sunlight, right?" Dawn asked. "Like, you won't burst into flames or anything?"

"Yeah, I only burn the normal amount," Connor answered with a sigh, wondering how much more of this they were going to do before he had to tell her the truth.

"You just don't want to," Dawn said sadly, getting to her feet. "It's fine. I'll go."

"No, Dawn, wait," Connor said, taking her hand and pulling her back down onto the couch. "It's not that. It's just … You're gonna laugh."

"I don't feel much like laughing," Dawn answered.

Connor sighed. "Okay, listen. I'm kind of grounded."

"What do you mean?" Dawn asked, puzzled.

"Grounded," Connor repeated, blushing. "Like, _grounded_ grounded."

"As in, not allowed to leave the house, grounded?" Dawn asked.

Connor nodded.

"Are you on house arrest?" Dawn asked accusingly, her eyes dropping unconsciously toward his ankles to search for the bracelet. "Ugh. I knew there had to be something wrong with you!"

Connor laughed. "No, nothing like that. Also, thanks for that vote of confidence there."

"But we went out last night," Dawn pointed out. "Were you grounded then, too?"

"Well, yeah, but that was a sanctioned outing," Connor said.

"So, it's an Angel thing?" Dawn asked. "He grounded you?"

"Yeah," Connor answered, feeling ridiculous.

"But you have your own place," Dawn said. "How can he make you stay home if you don't want to?"

"He has his ways," Connor said vaguely.

"Like a spell?" Dawn asked. "That happened to me one time. I kinda made this wish and caused everyone to be stuck in our house all night..."

"Nah," Connor said dismissively. "He wouldn't do that." Or he just hadn't thought of it yet...

"You could call and ask him if we can go," Dawn said hopefully. "I mean, since you totally already told them where I am anyway."

Connor grinned. "Yeah, I told Spike. Sorry. But he was going to freak out if I didn't. But I don't want to call, not if Angel's still asleep. Let's just get something here, okay?"

"You could ask Spike," Dawn suggested.

Connor frowned. "Uh, no. It doesn't work like that. They aren't interchangeable. He's a good part of the reason I'm in trouble anyway."

"Pizza it is, then," Dawn said, giving in. "I want anchovies."

"Yuck, really?" Connor asked.

"Yes," Dawn said defensively.

"Okay, fine. But we're not getting tomatoes on it this time," Connor said, flipping through the phone book to find the number.

After they'd gotten their fill of television and pizza—Connor wasn't too fond of either daytime court shows or anchovies, so his fill was much smaller than Dawn's—Dawn offered to help him study. At first Connor just played along because it amused him, but she turned out to be a pretty decent study partner. Before he even realized it, a couple hours had passed and he felt ready for the exam that he probably would not be allowed to make up.

"No, you're confusing igneous with metamorphic again," Dawn said, her voice in full teacher mode. She opened Connor's textbook to a previous page and scooted so close to him that the book rested in both their laps. "See. Igneous is the magma."

"Yeah," Connor said tiredly. "I know that, I do. I think I just need a break."

Dawn suddenly leaned in and kissed Connor full on the mouth. He instinctively returned the affection for a few seconds before hastily pulling away.

"Hey. Whoa," he said, jumping to his feet and walking backwards into the kitchen. "That … I mean, hey." He ran his hands through his hair, trying to get his bearings.

"Oh," Dawn said, disappointed and embarrassed. "I thought … Well, I feel stupid now."

Connor returned with two bottles of Coke and handed one to Dawn before changing his mind and yanking it abruptly away.

"You're not gonna throw this on me, are you?" he checked.

Dawn smiled. "Probably not."

Connor handed her the drink, hoping it would give her something else to occupy her lips.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I guess now you think I'm a slut."

Connor laughed, but quickly reeled it in when he saw the serious expression on Dawn's face.

"No, I don't think that," he assured her. "You're a very nice girl. Not slut-like in any way."

Dawn snorted and took a long drink of her Coke so that she wouldn't have to answer.

"I think Spike would totally stake me if I touched you, though," Connor continued. "He's pretty protective of you."

"You're not a vampire," Dawn said sullenly.

"Yeah, exactly," Connor said lightly. "So it would_ really _fucking hurt!"

Dawn regarded him silently for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. Connor sighed with relief that the tension had lifted some. He sank back down into the floor beside her and opened his textbook again.

"You willing to keep helping me study?" he asked.

"I don't know," Dawn said. "All this talk about rocks apparently gets me hot."

They shared another laugh that was interrupted by a short knock at the door. Connor glanced at Dawn, who looked decidedly glum again, before unlocking the door and stepping back to let Angel in.

"Hey, Dad," he said cordially.

"Connor," Angel greeted, though he looked only at Dawn. Connor noticed that she squirmed a little under the gaze.

"Hey," she said quietly.

"Spike tells me you ran off," Angel said in reply.

"I did not run off," she said. "Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"I don't know, I'd say screaming at him and then leaving in the middle of the day when you know he can't come find you counts as running off," Angel countered.

"Sorry. Geez," she said, drawing her knees into her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "I was gonna come back."

"Dawn was helping me study," Connor added quickly, hoping that would earn them both some brownie points. "She's already better at geology than I am."

"Get in the car, Dawn," Angel ordered, jerking his thumb toward the door. "Right now."

Dawn briefly stayed put, seemingly weighing her options. She must have decided that defying someone who would ground his adult son wasn't in her best interest, because she got to her feet and gathered her belongings, giving Connor a wan smile.

"See you later," she said as she slipped past Angel and out the door.

"You'll be lucky if you get to see anything besides the walls of your room for the rest of the time you're here," Angel said, but Dawn was already out of earshot.

Connor absently shoved his hands in his back pockets, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the whole situation.

"Thank you for watching her for us," Angel said.

"No problem," Connor answered quietly. "She's cool."

"She's too young for you," Angel replied sternly.

"Yeah, I know," Connor said, trying to suppress the grin that threatened to spread across his face. "I like them older, anyway."

Angel made a discontented noise in the back of his throat, giving Connor the distinct feeling that he'd just been growled at.

"Hey, don't be too hard on her, okay?" he said abruptly. It felt weird to be asking for leniency for someone else for a change. "I mean, you won't punish her, will you? Not like … like you do me, I mean?"

"That's none of your business," Angel replied shortly, and Connor bristled slightly.

"It is my business!" he blurted out. "I just got you back. I'd rather the Slayer didn't have to come kill your ass because you went all 1950s on her kid sister, okay?"

"Okay," Angel said, softening a bit. He pulled Connor to him and kissed the top of his head. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Good. See that you do. Sir," Connor added, not quite ready to let go of his irritation as easily as his father had, but also not wanting to provoke him. Angel might decide to take out his frustrations with Dawn on Connor's backside instead, and he did not want that.

Angel just smiled and told Connor good night.


	11. Chapter 11

Connor normally dreaded Mondays—so much so that he'd often ignore them all together and instead pretend that he'd been granted an extra Sunday—but this one, this Monday had turned out pretty okay.

He hummed as he called Angel at the hotel. It rang and rang until the machine picked up. He'd begun leaving a quick message when Dawn suddenly intercepted the call.

"Hey!" she said breathlessly.

"Hi," Connor returned. "What's going on over there?"

"Nothing," Dawn said. "Spike and Angel are out. I thought I better let the answering machine handle the calls. I'm not a very good receptionist."

"Where did they go?" Connor asked, hoping Dawn couldn't hear the frown in his voice.

"I dunno," she said easily. "No one ever tells me anything. Are you coming over?"

"I'm not sure. I guess I need to call Angel's cell. House arrest, you know."

"Don't bother. He barely knows how to answer it," Dawn replied, and they both laughed at the truth behind that statement. "Besides, I'm sure it's okay if you're just coming here."

"I'll head that way but give him a call anyway," Connor promised, thinking that Dawn was probably correct in her thinking.

"Okay!" she said excitedly. "See you soon!" She may have even giggled.

Connor shook his head and smiled as he dialed Angel.

"Angel's mobile telephonic device," Spike answered. "How may I direct your call?"

"Hey," Connor said, grinning as he pictured the look Angel must have on his face if he'd been nearby enough to hear that.

"Hey, mate," Spike said warmly. "If you want your dad, you're going to have to hold on a minute. He's currently having his arse handed to him."

"What's going on?" Connor asked quickly. "Do you need me? Where are you?"

"Oh, no," Spike said leisurely, and Connor got a visual of him sitting back and propping up his feet. "Nothing like that. We're fine. Well, _I'm _fine. Captain Forehead's in a right state."

Connor could hear a scuffle in the background, Angel panting and threatening and the clanging of swords.

"Are you sure?" Connor asked uncertainly. "I mean, I can come help."

"If you really fancy an unnecessary trip through the sewers, be our guest," Spike said. "But really, we'll be all right as soon as Angel here steps up his game a—That's it, kick him in the balls!"

Connor, not entirely sure whose side Spike was on in the whole crotch kicking issue, snapped his phone shut and walked toward the Hyperion. His dad _would_ be okay, and Spike _would _help when and if he needed him to—he hoped. Angel surely wouldn't be too upset with him for coming over, and besides, it was easier to ask forgiveness than permission.

Dawn walked excitedly toward Connor as he entered the hotel, but stopped short of entering his personal space. She pushed her hair behind one ear self-consciously and gave him a tentative smile. Being manly, it took Connor a few moments to figure out why she was acting so weird, but he finally realized that she sported a little more makeup than she had the day before and had done something to her hair. He wasn't entirely sure _what_, but he sensed it was different.

"You look nice," he offered, knowing he'd stumbled into dangerous territory but also knowing that she needed to hear it.

"Thanks," she replied, blushing. "Did you get a hold of your dad?"

"Sorta," he answered, slinging his backpack off his shoulder and depositing it onto the round couch in the lobby.

"I made pizza!" Dawn announced unexpectedly, pulling Connor by the hand toward the kitchen. "I mean, I took the plastic off and put it in the oven, but it still totally counts."

"Cool," Connor said, laughing, as he looked around the hotel's industrial kitchen. "Your frozen pizza may be the finest gourmet item concocted here in decades. I don't think they ever use this stuff."

"They don't," Dawn agreed, pushing a plate of her domestic creation toward him eagerly. "I had to clean the oven before I could even use it. Ugh."

"Thanks," he said, smiling. "It's great. Let's go to the lobby, though. Angel kicked my ass in here once. It's kinda giving me the creeps."

"Okay," Dawn said, following him out. He kind of loved that she didn't seem at all bothered by his previous statement.

"So," Connor said as the two of them took up chairs on opposites sides of the counter. "What happened when you got home last night? Were they mad?"

"You know Angel," Dawn said, rolling her eyes. "He likes to talk and bluster a lot, but he's not so big on the follow through."

"You must know a different Angel," Connor commented.

"I don't know," Dawn said easily. "Maybe he's just different with you."

"Yeah."

"So I was going through this book he won't let me touch," Dawn said suddenly, causing Connor to cough uncomfortably.

"You what?" he asked, needing to hear it again.

"You know, this book," she said, reaching down and hefting it up onto the counter.

"Yeah, but why?" he asked. "I mean, he obviously doesn't want you fooling with it."

Dawn rolled her eyes and waved off his concern.

"Seriously, you might get in trouble," Connor continued. "Not just from Angel. There's probably a good reason he doesn't want you messing with it."

"You're starting to sound more and more like him," Dawn replied accusingly. She flipped through the pages until she reached the one she needed. "Here, look."

Connor really didn't want to look, but he gave the offered page a perfunctory glance anyway.

"Yeah. Okay," he said, returning his gaze to his pizza. "It's a charm bracelet or something. So?"

"So, I think this is what Angel's been looking for," Dawn said excitedly. "And I think I know where it is!"

"Well, you should talk to him about that, then," Connor replied, telling himself that he in no way intended to get involved.

"Please. He won't talk to me about it. We need to just go and get it for him."

"Um, no," Connor replied firmly. "I don't think that we do. The Royal We need to just stay right here."

"Why not?" Dawn asked, pouting. "It would prove to him that I'm not a kid."

"Not to offend you or anything," Connor said carefully, "but that's kind of a kid thing to say."

Dawn set her mouth in a hard line before reaching out, taking Connor's food away from him, and dumping it unceremoniously into the waste basket. She crossed her arms over her chest and regarded him with a challenge clear in her eyes.

"Okay. I guess I deserved that," Connor said. "Sorry."

Dawn seemed fully prepared to keep up her icy silence until he'd done some proper groveling, but luckily—well, maybe it was luckily—Spike and Angel burst through the hotel doors, giving Connor an excuse to turn his attention from her.

"Dad!" he exclaimed when he saw that Angel was being supported by Spike, who had him round the shoulders. Spike deposited Angel onto the couch next to Connor's backpack.

"I'm okay," Angel said, grimacing and holding onto his leg.

"Yeah, you look okay," Connor said sarcastically, kneeling down to take a look at the wound.

"It's fine. Will heal up in a couple of hours," Angel said dourly.

"What happened?" Connor demanded of Spike, who appeared to be attempting to fade into the background with Dawn.

"Well, I thought he had him!" he said defensively. "Really, I did! How was I supposed to know our big hero here was such a klutz?"

"I told you I could have helped," Connor said hotly, pulling Angel's ripped pants leg away from the gash.

"I'm fine, Connor," Angel said, though he still clutched at his leg. "It's okay."

"I can carry you to your room," Connor offered.

"You will do no such thing."

"But you're hurt. Why won't you let me help you?"

"I. Am. Fine," Angel said pointedly. "And you're not supposed to be here, anyway, last time I checked."

Connor's face flushed with a mixture of shame and aggravation.

"Sorry, okay?" he said quietly. "I wanted to talk to you. I didn't think you'd get pissed off about it. I came straight here and didn't go anywhere else."

"I'm not mad," Angel said gently. "What did you want to talk about?"

"It doesn't matter now," Connor said gruffly, pulling again at the fabric around his father's wound until Angel smacked his hands away.

"I promise it's almost better at this very moment," Angel said, getting to his feet. "See."

He took a step to prove his point, but only sank down into the floor in a heap. Connor grabbed him under the arms to support him and helped him to stand.

"Yeah," Connor said dryly. "I see."

"Maybe I could lie down for a little while," Angel conceded.

"I'll carry you," Connor said quickly, reaching down to scoop Angel's legs into his arms.

"No!" Angel protested. "Just … Just get me to my office. I'll lie on the couch."

Connor helped Angel to the couch and stood over him with a frown.

"Stop hovering," Angel said. "I'm fine. If you could just hand me that book over there..."

Connor tossed the novel Angel had requested to him.

"Do you want me to bandage you up?" Connor asked. "I am totally skilled in first aid."

"No, Connor. Thanks," Angel said, scowling. "But you and I are going to have a talk later about being grounded and what it means."

"What?" Connor said hotly, lowering his voice to make sure the two in the lobby couldn't hear him. "You said you weren't mad."

"I'm not mad."

"Then there's nothing to talk about," Connor said petulantly.

"Later," Angel said firmly.

"No," Connor said quietly. "If you want to talk, talk now. We can talk just fine with you lying down. I didn't do anything wrong."

"I'm really not in the mood for this right now, Connor," Angel scolded.

"Fine!" Connor spat. His feelings were kind of hurt, but he tried not to show it. "If you need anything, yell for someone else."

Connor left Angel's office and slammed the door forcefully. He immediately regretted shouting at his father, and his first instinct told him to go back and apologize, but Angel probably "wasn't in the mood" for that, either. Connor huffed. The hushed conversation between Spike and Dawn at the desk abruptly stopped when they saw the look on his face.

"Is he okay?" Dawn asked softly.

"He'll live."

"He needs some blood," Spike said. "We're out; I should go get him some."

"I'll get it," Connor said immediately, heading for the door even though he wasn't exactly sure where he was going.

"Are you sure, mate?" Spike asked, quickly coming from around the front desk so he could speak to Connor semi-privately. "I mean, your papa won't be laid up on that sofa forever."

Connor shrugged, feeling the stormy expression on his face but unable to change it.

"I'll get it," he repeated glumly.

"In for a penny, in for a pound, then," Spike said, relenting. "There's a butcher three blocks east. Just tell them it's for Angel. They won't ask any questions."

"Thanks," Connor said.

"Connor, wait!" Dawn said as he'd almost made it through the doors.

"What?" he asked coolly, watching as she threw a sidelong glance at Spike, who'd already gone about his own business.

"There's a magic store on the way," she said softly. "You'll see the one I mean. Go in there and see if they have the Oxley Charm."

"The what?" Connor asked, his father's injury having pushed all other thoughts out of his mind.

"The _Charm_," Dawn repeated in a whisper. "The one from the book. It's called the Oxley Charm."

"I don't know, maybe," Connor said dismissively, really just wanting to get to the butcher shop.

"Please," Dawn said, touching him gently on the arm. "Just see if they have it, that's all. I think it's in there."

"Maybe," Connor said, pulling away from her and turning toward the door. "But I'm not promising anything."

"Thanks!" Dawn said excitedly, clearly having taken his direct statement to the contrary as a promise that he would go.


	12. Chapter 12

Yes, Monday had gone to crap as it almost always did. Connor didn't know why he'd thought things would be any different this week than they ever were. He kept his head down, glaring furiously at the sidewalk as he made his way to the butcher shop.

It had all started off so well, too. His geology professor had let him take the exam he'd missed—she was only going to give him partial credit on it, but that had to be better than no credit at all, and he was fairly certain that he could pass the class now. Haley had even been … well, not exactly _pleasant_ to him, but she hadn't overtly attacked him with any comestibles, either, and that was a step up.

Connor had been so sure that Angel would release him from his ridiculous grounding when he heard the good news about the test. Now all Angel was gonna do was whip his ass for him again, and probably ground him longer. Mondays sucked. Everything sucked.

He'd been so lost in his self-pitying—no, not self-pitying—completely true thoughts that he'd walked several blocks too far and passed the butcher shop. He sighed and turned around. Once he'd reached his destination, Connor leaned over the counter and quietly ordered "two quarts of pig's blood," the words feeling foreign and heavy on his lips.

"Sure, kid," the man replied, not giving it a second thought.

That had been a lot easier than he'd thought it would be, and as he carried his brown paper bag of blood back toward the hotel, Connor felt slightly better about the world—though _should_ he feel better about a world where he could so easily order blood? Maybe he felt worse. He'd have to think about it some more.

And Dawn, what was her deal? Why was she so concerned about finding this damn charm? But more importantly, what did she think of him? One minute she'd be furious with him for the tiniest screw-up, and the next she was ready to jump his bones. Maybe this behavior was just typical of Summers women. He'd have to ask his dad—wait, no. He wouldn't ask his dad anything. His dad wasn't "in the mood."

Oh. The magic shop. He must have missed it on the way to the butcher shop, but here it was on the way back. Connor stood out front and stared at it for several long minutes, debating whether or not he really wanted to go in the nearly dilapidated building and look for this charm thingy. To be completely honest, he didn't really care about this thing or what Angel wanted it for. If Angel had wanted him to get involved, he'd have told him as much. Really, though, it wouldn't hurt to just go in and look, for Dawn. Connor had certainly done worse things for women.

He stepped through the shop's door and had to stand still for a few moments while his eyes adjusted to the low light. He really didn't like magic. In his experience, it never turned out well. Something inevitably went wrong no matter how much careful planning went into it. His eyes darted around the room briefly, but he didn't see anything that looked like Dawn's bracelet. He sighed in relief and turned to leave, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

Connor barely managed to stifle a surprised yelp, but his proper upbringing immediately kicked in and he offered a polite, "Hello" to the shopkeeper.

"Hello," the old woman returned, somehow making it sound creepy. "You're in the trade, I see."

"Um. What?" Connor asked, caught off guard.

"For a spell, no doubt," she said, nodding toward the bag in his arms.

"Oh, this," Connor said, frowning. "No, nothing like that. This is … groceries."

"Mmhmm," she murmured, getting right in his personal bubble to peer into the bag.

Connor instinctively pulled it away from her, and when he did, noticed that she wore around her neck a piece of jewelry that bore a striking resemblance to the item he'd come looking for. He tried not to show his surprise, but she must have caught it.

"Interested in this, are you?" she asked, holding the necklace up and caressing it lovingly.

"No," he said quickly, backing out the door. "I gotta go."

Relief washed over him as soon as he got out of the magic shop and away from Lady Gollum. He all but sprinted back to the Hyperion and rushed through the doors.

"Hey," Dawn and Spike greeted him from the desk, but neither of them even bothered to look up.

"Hey," he said, walking toward them and seeing upon further investigation that Dawn was carefully painting Spike's fingernails black. It seemed the two of them were on good enough terms again. Maybe he'd ask Spike about the typical behavior of Summers women. "Playing dress up?"

"You're doing too good a job, pet," Spike said, ignoring Connor. "You've gotta make it look hurried or else it's just—"

"Girly," Connor supplied, dumping some of the pig's blood into the first mug he found.

"That's mine," Spike said without even turning around.

"How do you know?" Connor asked. "This mug has a big A on it..."

"Yeah. That's my favorite type," he said, reaching his free hand behind him.

"Be still!" Dawn whined, concentrating hard on her work.

Connor rolled his eyes and gave him the mug.

"You could have at least heated it up," Spike complained.

Connor grabbed the only other mug he saw—he'd had no idea his father was a Sex Pistols fan—and filled it up.

"I'll be in the office," he told them.

Angel was asleep on his couch. Connor rarely saw him like that, and it kinda disturbed him that his dad looked honestly and truly dead. He let the door close with slightly less than a slam behind him so that Angel would wake up.

"What?" Angel said, startled.

"It's just me," Connor said, handing him the mug.

Angel frowned at it.

"It's Spike's. I know," Connor said. "He took yours. Sorry."

"It's not that," Angel said softly. "It's just … I mean … I usually warm it up."

"Tough," Connor replied.

"Thanks," Angel said, smiling wryly.

"You feeling any better?" Connor asked.

"Yeah. It's almost healed."

"Spike said the blood would help, so..." Connor explained.

"It will. Thanks," Angel said.

"So, I guess you already knew you were out, so I may as well confess that I went and got it."

"Yeah," Angel said. "I always wanted an errand boy. Tried to train Spike, but he's useless."

"You're not mad?" Connor asked, confused. "I mean, I didn't ask permission."

"It's fine, Connor," Angel said, getting to his feet. "I know you were just pissed off at me."

Connor shrugged.

"You ready to talk to me now?" Angel asked as he made his way to his desk and dropped heavily into his chair.

"Here?" Connor asked, alarmed. He glanced toward the very clear office window into the lobby. "Angel! Not here."

"When I said talk, I meant talk," Angel said, nodding toward the chair in front of his desk.

"Oh," Connor said, relieved—but only slightly. He sat down where Angel directed him. "It's just … Sometimes when you say 'talk,' you really mean … any number of other things."

"Yeah, well, this time, I just want to talk," Angel clarified. "You seem to think I'm gonna spank you every time you step out of line."

Connor thought exactly that, but he didn't say so.

"I'm sorry your only son's a jerk," he offered instead. "I shouldn't have shouted at you. Or, you know, slammed the door."

"You're not a jerk," Angel said. "But apology accepted."

"Okay," Connor agreed, hoping to just move past that argument.

"How was your day?" Angel asked.

"Fine."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Connor answered.

"Care to tell me a little more?" Angel prompted.

"Not really," Connor said sullenly.

"Try again."

Connor shifted uncomfortably.

"Well, I was gonna tell you earlier. I got to make up my test."

"Oh yeah? That's great, pal!" Angel said. "How'd you do?"

"Okay, I think," Connor answered, relaxing slightly. "She's only giving me partial credit, but—"

"Better than nothing," Angel said, nodding. "What did you tell her that convinced her to let you take it?"

"The truth," Connor answered simply. "Well, most of it."

"Left out the part about the vampires?" Angel asked, smiling.

"Yeah. And the part about getting grounded. Which, I was kinda hoping, you know..." Connor trailed off, finding it suddenly difficult to voice the words.

"You want to be un-grounded?" Angel asked.

"Well," Connor started, clearing his throat. "I mean, you said until I got the test taken care of."

"I did," Angel acknowledged.

"So?" Connor asked hopefully.

Angel stared at him so long and so hard that Connor started to become convinced he'd remain grounded forever.

"Okay," he said glumly. "Sorry I asked."

"I know you weren't just trying to throw it in my face when you came over here to see Dawn," Angel finally said. "And I know you didn't mean to, but you really did break your grounding by doing it."

"'m sorry," Connor mumbled. "I wasn't coming to see her. I was coming to see you, and I really didn't think you'd mind. And I guess I kinda thought you'd let me off the hook today anyway. Since I took care of my test."

Connor blushed, embarrassed that—hell, just embarrassed.

"It's okay," Angel said softly. "I guess you are off the hook. For now."

"Really? Do you mean it?" Connor asked excitedly.

"Yes. _If _you keep up the good behavior, that is," Angel clarified.

"Let me guess. You plan to keep administering your special brand of discipline if I don't?" Connor asked.

"Count on it," Angel said seriously, nodding.

"Okay, Dad," Connor said, getting to his feet and hovering near the door. He didn't like Angel's readiness to dole out more corporal punishment, but he'd deal with that as it came. For now, he was just happy not to be confined to his apartment anymore. "Thanks!"

Connor opened the door but hung back in the office.

"Do you think I could take Dawn out for a little while?" he asked on a whim. "Just to get something to eat or something. As thrilled as I'm sure she'd be with pig's blood..."

"I don't know," Angel said, frowning as he followed him to the door. "I'm not sure she deserves to go out."

"Come on," Connor said in what he hoped was his charming voice. "Just for a little while?"

"Please?" Dawn asked, suddenly appearing at his side. She didn't seem to be angry with him anymore. That was good. Or dangerous.

"No, absolutely not!" Spike said from behind them. He held up a hand sporting two painted nails.

"Who's going to finish my paint job if you leave, bit?"

Spike locked eyes with Angel for a moment before they both looked away uncomfortably.

"Be back by ten," Angel said.

"Yes!" Dawn exclaimed happily.

"I mean it," Angel reiterated. "Ten o'clock."

"Okay," Connor agreed. "Ten-thirty. Got it."

"Connor," Angel said warningly, but a smile crossed his lips.

"All right, Dad, eleven o'clock. I understand," Connor teased.

"Behave," Angel said, and he unexpectedly reached out and smacked Connor's bottom once lightly in what could only be described as a love tap. Connor stood perfectly still, unsure if he was embarrassed, amused, angry, or all three. Spike and Dawn didn't say a word about it, but they certainly looked amused, so he settled on that one as well.

"Ten o'clock," he confirmed, smiling through his embarrassment. "Have fun doing Spike's nails."

"Cheeky one, that," Spike commented affectionately as Dawn ushered Connor out the door.


	13. Chapter 13

This chapter contains bad language and bad behavior.

* * *

"Okay, let's go straight there," Dawn announced as soon as they'd hit the sidewalk.

"Huh?" Connor said eloquently.

"The magic shop," Dawn said, rolling her eyes. "To see if we can get the charm."

"How do you even know it's there?" Connor asked. "I didn't say it was there."

"It's there," Dawn said knowingly.

"What makes you so sure?" Connor asked suspiciously.

"I saw it," Dawn replied. "I went in there one night."

"Angel let you go in that creepy place?" Connor asked doubtfully.

"I didn't say that, did I?" she asked.

"Spike let you go in there?"

"I didn't say that, either," Dawn said with exasperation in her voice. "Look, stop asking so many questions. Let's just go there, okay?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of having dinner," Connor said. "I think that's definitely a better idea."

Dawn abruptly stopped, causing Connor to almost run into her.

"You can come in or not, but I'm going," she said resolutely. "Stay outside if you want. I just want to ask about it. It'll only take a minute."

"It's a bad idea," Connor said firmly. "Let's just call my dad and let him deal with it."

He pulled out his phone and had it flipped open ready to dial Angel when Dawn grabbed it out of his hand and shoved it into her purse.

"Hey!" Connor said indignantly.

"I'll give it back," she said. "_After _I get out of the shop."

They walked the rest of the way in stony silence. When they reached the front of the magic shop, Connor planted himself on the sidewalk and refused to go in. Dawn shrugged and told him to suit himself. He'd just gotten his arms fixed across his chest in his best disapproving stance when Dawn rejoined him.

"There," she said triumphantly. "Was that so hard?"

"What?" he asked. "You've barely been gone a minute. What did she say?"

"She gave it to me," Dawn said easily, lifting the charm from around her own neck to show him. "See."

"What?" Connor said, alarmed. "She just gave it to you? Are you hurt?"

"No," Dawn answered, but she gave herself an uncertain once-over anyway. "Why would I be hurt?"

"Look, people generally don't just hand over magical artifacts so easily. There's gotta be a catch. There's always a catch!"

Dawn's expression faltered for a moment, but she regained her confidence.

"No. I think everything's fine. I got it. Let's go have dinner now."

"Take that thing off," Connor demanded, holding out his hand for it. "Give it to me."

"Uh, no," Dawn said, giving him a sideways glance instead. "It's fine."

"It's not fine," Connor insisted. "Take it off."

"Fine, but you're not getting it," she eventually conceded, carefully removing the necklace and placing it gently into her purse.

"We're going home," Connor announced. "We'll give that thing to Angel right now."

"What about our food?" Dawn asked, disappointed.

"You shouldn't have thrown it in the trash," Connor said coldly, stalking down the street.

Dawn followed him, for which he was grateful. He hadn't been certain that she would, and the last thing he needed right now was to lose her and her stupid charm.

Connor shoved the door of the Hyperion open only to be immediately accosted by Angel, who grabbed him firmly by the upper arm. Alarmed and taken completely by surprise, Connor tried to jerk his arm away, but Angel didn't relent.

"Where have you been?" he bellowed.

Connor's eyes widened. Angel was pissed. How could he possibly already know what they'd been up to?

"I'm sorry," Connor replied automatically. "I didn't even want to go there. I made her come straight back."

Angel laughed mirthlessly.

"I wouldn't call two in the morning 'straight back,' Connor," he said sarcastically.

"What?" Connor asked, genuinely confused. He tried again, unsuccessfully, to release his arm from Angel's grasp. "It's not two in the morning! Ease up on the arm!"

Instead of easing up, Angel smacked him hard on the bottom, and Connor became acutely aware of Dawn's wide eyes watching the situation from the landing.

"Ow!" he yelled, though he hadn't meant to. "Angel, it's not! We've only been gone like twenty minutes!"

"Don't even try to pull that 'lost track of time' thing with me, Connor," Angel said. "I thought we were very clear that you needed to be back by ten."

"I'm not trying to pull anything! We weren't gone that long!" Connor said helplessly, earning him a couple more hard swats. He felt two angry tears make their way down his face.

"Go to your room, Dawn," Angel said over his shoulder.

Dawn opened her mouth to speak, but then thought better of it. With an apologetic look at Connor, she turned and sprinted up the stairs.

"I swear to God, Angel," Connor said seriously, trying in vain to pry his dad's fingers off his arm. "There's no way it could be so late. There's just no way."

Angel wasn't in the mood to listen, though, and dragged Connor to the couch, where he deposited him over his lap and promptly began spanking him—hard. Connor struggled and tried to crawl forward off Angel's lap only to get pulled back and spanked harder. The urge to get up and see if he could indeed kick his father's ass was very strong … if he could just get up.

"Please!" Connor said urgently as soon as he realized that all his efforts to get loose were futile. He threw his hands back to block the blows. "Please just listen to me, just for a minute!"

"A minute could turn into hours with you," Angel commented, continuing to punish him. He slapped right down on top of Connor's hands until he moved them.

"Stop!" Connor yelled. "Just stop for one freaking minute!"

It seemed that every time Connor opened his mouth to protest, Angel just whacked him harder. There was nothing playful about this; he was getting a serious spanking that he seriously felt he didn't deserve, and it made him angry. He went for the last ditch effort of elbowing his father in the ribs, but Angel wasn't discouraged. Connor felt him hook his thumb ominously into the waistband of his jeans, and he immediately stilled, taking that for the warning it was. Angel had only taken his pants down the once, but Connor had no doubt that he'd do it again.

"Come on, Angel, don't thrash him," Spike said as he suddenly appeared, coming toward them from the bottom of the stairs with Dawn standing shyly behind him and clinging to his arm. She must have recruited him upstairs. "You've read him the riot act already. I'm sure he's the sorriest boy in all the land. Aren't you, Connor?"

"No," Connor answered reproachfully, furious when Angel resumed spanking him in front of the others.

"Okay, then, maybe he's just the stupidest boy in all the land," Spike said, looking away uneasily. "But you should still lay off him."

"I, personally, am all kinds of sorry," Dawn offered.

"Give it a rest, Dawn," Angel snapped. "And I believe I sent you to your room."

"Yeah, but Angel..." Dawn said tentatively.

"What?" Angel asked sharply, and Connor was amazed that they could even hear each other through the steady barrage of smacking.

"Don't hurt him. It's my fault," Dawn said, her voice even smaller.

Angel suddenly released his grip on Connor, who sprang to his feet immediately. Angel latched onto his shoulder and firmly pushed him back down onto the couch.

"You sit right there and don't move, or I promise you I will take off my belt and you won't sit for a week," he threatened.

Connor, absolutely mortified, managed a brief glance at Dawn. She shrank even further behind Spike, clearly concerned that she was about to be next. Through his angry tears, Connor saw Spike petting her hair soothingly.

"Would you care to explain to me why you two were out until two a.m.?" Angel asked Dawn sternly.

"I-I don't know how it got so late, Angel," she managed to say. "I can't explain it. I think it was an accident."

"An accident?" he repeated dubiously.

"It's _not_ two in the damn morning!" Connor nearly shouted. "I told you it can't be!"

"Connor … it is," Dawn said apologetically, rummaging through her purse and tossing him his cell phone. "I don't know how, but it is."

Connor frowned at the display. 2:04.

"That's impossible!" he said, shaking the phone and looking again.

"I called you," Angel said. "I called both of you, and you didn't answer. I want to know what you were doing, and I want to know right now."

Connor glared angrily at his father for a few seconds before dropping his gaze.

"I had his phone," Dawn said quietly. "I took it away from him."

"Why?" Angel asked.

"Because he was going to call you. But I swear neither of them rang while we were out! We were only gone a few minutes, and then we came right back."

"And?" Angel demanded. "Why didn't you want Connor to call me? What is it that you're not telling me about?"

"About this," Dawn said, reluctantly pulling the necklace from her purse and holding it out to him by its chain.

Angel and Spike both stood stock still for several long seconds before Spike regained his senses. He reached up and smacked Dawn sharply on the back of the head.

"Ow!" she exclaimed. "What was that for?"

"How many times have I told you, pet?" Spike said angrily. "No amulets, no bracelets, no pendants, no necklaces!"

"What?" Dawn said, releasing the necklace when Angel reached for it. "You never told me anything like that!"

"That was me, Spike," Angel commented quietly, looking the charm over.

"Oh. Well, you should have known by default!" Spike continued, undeterred. "You put on the shiny necklace, you burn into oblivion!"

"You didn't put on the shiny necklace, did you?" Angel asked.

All the color drained from Dawn's face, giving away her guilt.

"She put it on me," she said weakly.

"Who?" Angel demanded.

"The old lady. At the magic shop."

"What magic shop?"

"The magic shop right down the road," Dawn said.

"There's no magic shop near here," Angel said. "I'd know if there were."

"There is!" Dawn insisted.

"Bit, Angel's right—and I bloody _hate_ that I was just forced to say that—but just tell us where you got it," Spike urged. "And I promise that Buffy won't get any anonymous letters about how you've regressed to your klepto days."

Dawn actually stomped her foot—honestly, she did—and let out an exaggerated huff of frustration.

"I _did not _fucking _steal_ it," she said through clenched teeth, trying to keep her voice from breaking. Her eyes glistened, the tears ready to spill over at any moment.

"Oh ho ho, now you're really going to catch it! Did you hear what _your_ child just said?" Spike demanded incredulously of Angel, who was turning the Oxley Charm over and over in his hand as if he couldn't believe he finally had possession of it.

"What, son?" he asked absently, proving that he had not heard.

"There is a magic shop," Connor said quietly, taking the opportunity to support Dawn even though he remained on the couch. "Or at least, there was. And that thing was in there."

"I knew you were looking for it," Dawn continued, glancing briefly toward Angel. "Because I overheard you talking with Spike. And I wanted to help, but you wouldn't even let me read about it."

"Why didn't you just tell us where it was, if you'd seen it?" Angel asked.

"You wouldn't listen," she insisted.

"You didn't try," Angel pointed out.

"Say, did the shiny necklace by chance, oh I don't know, glow when she put it on you?" Spike interrupted.

"Maybe a little," Dawn admitted.

"And yet it's a surprise to you when things like this happen!" he shouted. "You do realize that that hunk of metal is almost certainly behind your little time and/or memory loss?"

Dawn shrugged.

Spike threw his hands in the air dramatically.

"You know what, Angel? I've changed my mind. Smack them both," he said, exasperated. "I'll even hold this one down for it if you want."

Connor thought he'd been smacked enough, but he didn't dare open his mouth about it.

"No!" Dawn shrieked, close to tears again. She stepped away from Spike. "This is California! I don't think you're allowed to do things like that here!"

"Calm down, Dawn," Angel said gently. "He's only kidding."

"The hell I am!" Spike raved. "What you did was dangerous and stupid, pet. I thought you had more brains than that in your pretty little head. You're really lucky all this bloody thing did was jump you forward in time a little. There's no telling what all could have happened if you hadn't taken it off."

"I'm sorry!" Dawn wailed, crying in earnest now. "I was just trying to help!"

"In fact," Spike continued, and Connor began to feel embarrassed for Dawn now as well as himself, "we don't even know for sure that that _is _all that happened, do we? We don't know where you two were, or what was happening. You say you came straight home, but do you know that for sure? You may have just dragged poor Connor here through another dimensional rift, pet!"

Poor Connor really just wanted to be left out of it at this point. Dawn's tears made him aware that his own had stopped, and he wiped roughly at his wet cheeks to get rid of the lingering evidence.

"I didn't mean to," Dawn said meekly.

The full range of emotions crossed Spike's face before he pulled Dawn to him and wrapped his arms around her, smoothing her hair while murmuring apologies and sweet nothings into her ear. Angel turned to Connor, who took some satisfaction in the guilty expression on his face.

"Connor—" Angel started gently.

"Can I go home now?" Connor interrupted. "Or did you want to humiliate me some more?"

"Connor, I'm sorry," Angel said. "I should have listened to you. We'll get this thing sorted out, and … and figure out what happened..."

"I've got a class at 8," Connor said coolly, getting stiffly to his feet.

He turned and left the hotel without another word.


	14. Chapter 14

Connor slept for three hours and had nightmares for two of them. He'd really planned on skipping his first class, no matter what he'd told Angel, but when he awoke with a start for the second time because Dream Holtz was chasing him with a flaming necklace, he decided to just get up and go. He immediately realized that he'd left his backpack at the hotel. Great.

He'd be really quiet and no one would even know he'd been there. He considered climbing through a window, but there was no need. His arrogant father never bothered to lock the doors anymore, it seemed, so he slipped in expecting to make a quick trip of it. Instead, he found Spike camped out next to his bag.

"Why are you still awake?" Connor groaned, really not wanting to have a conversation about everything this soon.

"Knew you'd come for this," Spike said, holding his backpack up.

Connor reached for it, but Spike pulled it out of his grasp.

"Come on, Spike," he said tiredly. "I have to get to class."

"You'll be going without your books unless you hear me out," Spike replied.

"Fine. What?"

"Don't be too mad at Peaches, okay?" Spike said. "You can be a little mad, but don't go tossing him into the ocean or anything like that. I've gotten used to having him around."

Connor's face burned at Spike's unexpectedly harsh words.

"I would never do that again," he whispered hotly. "I'm not that person anymore."

"I know, I know," Spike said. "It's just, I've gotten used to having you around, too, whoever you are. So I don't want you disappearing on me or anything. And Angel feels really bad about how it all went down last night, you know."

"I don't care," Connor answered. "Let him."

"Your pride's all hurt. I get that, I really do," Spike said. "Papa Bear came down on you pretty hard, and you feel like you didn't deserve it."

"It's not that," Connor said, though that was some of it.

"Okay, and he did it in front of an audience. Maybe that wasn't very nice of him," Spike allowed. "But what's a smacked backside among friends, eh? I don't think any less of you for it, and neither does Dawn. In fact, she thinks you're a bloody superhero or something now for having survived it."

"It wasn't that bad," Connor lied.

"Right," Spike scoffed. "I was hurting by association by the time he'd finished up with you."

Connor shrugged.

"Think of it this way," Spike continued. "If he hadn't laid into you for coming home late, he'd have just done it as soon as he found out where you'd been. And you really did deserve it for that. So really, you're no worse off, are you?"

Connor didn't answer and reached out to claim his bag, but Spike jerked it away again. At this rate, he was going to miss class anyway.

"If it makes you feel any better," Spike said, "Dawn got her share of chastisement last night, too."

Connor swallowed and gave him a questioning look, afraid of what that might mean.

"Yeah," Spike said. "Angel was ready to wallop her good after you left. Said he didn't care if it was the last thing he did, that it'd be worth it. Chased her to her room with a wooden spoon."

"Yikes," Connor said, and he meant it.

"Yeah. I didn't even know we owned a wooden spoon," Spike said.

"I hope he wasn't too hard on her," Connor said, but a wicked part of his brain didn't believe those words as he spoke them. He hadn't realized it until that moment, but he was almost as angry with Dawn as he was with Angel.

"Oh, no, I didn't let him touch her," Spike clarified.

"What happened, then?" Connor asked, interested even though he didn't want to be.

"I kicked him out and handled it myself," Spike said proudly.

"You did not," Connor said doubtfully.

"I did so. I gave her a right good hiding and sent her to bed one sorry little girl."

Connor shifted his weight from one foot to the other, not sure how to respond to that news.

"Don't worry, she lived," Spike said. "Screamed bloody murder, but she lived."

"I really need to get going, so if I could just have my backpack..." Connor urged.

"All right, mate," Spike said, rolling his eyes. "Think about what I said, though, and come by later, if you want. Even if you don't want. Your dad and I are going to find out more about this Oxley thingamabob and make sure it didn't sizzle your brains or anything."

"Yeah," Connor said noncommittally.

* * *

Connor went to all of his classes, but he didn't absorb any of it. Spike texted him half the day pestering him about every damn thing and relaying messages from Angel. Connor didn't reply to any of them.

He needed some comfort from someone without fangs or a Y chromosome, so he called his mother as he walked home. She could sense he was feeling down, and tried once or twice to get him to open up to her about it, but eventually she just let it go. She asked him about school and praised all the good grades he was getting—he conveniently left out any mention of the not-so-good grades that were sprinkled in there, too—and he felt a little better after having talked to her.

Even after a long hot shower, his butt still seriously ached, and Connor decided that, by god, he was going to have some time to himself tonight. He secured his doors and windows and lay down on his couch wrapped in just a towel. If anyone knocked, they were getting ignored. He turned his phone off and found the most boring, mundane thing he could on television and turned the volume down low, hoping to be lulled into a more restful sleep than he'd had the night before.

* * *

_A/N: Before I get called a tease, don't worry. That's not all you're getting of the Spike/Dawn encounter. _;)

_I wrote a companion piece to this story and put it up separately. It is titled "All Apologies," so if you want to read what went down between Dawn and Spike, check it out._


	15. Chapter 15

_If you'd like to read more about what happened between Spike and Dawn, check out my "All Apologies" story, posted separately._

* * *

Connor awoke with a start the next morning to find himself still on the couch. Apparently, no one had come to bother him or to beg his forgiveness—not that he'd planned to listen in either scenario. He got dressed and made some coffee, and once he decided that he was ready to deal with a heavy dose of aggravation, turned on his phone. He'd expected to find all kinds of messages, but surprisingly, there weren't any. He turned his phone off and back on again to make sure. Still nothing.

That was curious, but it _was_ what he had wanted … Wasn't it? To be left alone? Still, maybe he should go by his dad's later and just check on them. Just in case Dawn had staked Spike and Angel in a fit of revenge. Dawn seemed to be skilled in fits of all kinds.

He glanced at the time. He hadn't set his clock the night before and had overslept a little, not having expected to be passed out in the living room all night. He may as well just skip his first class because he'd never make it there on time, but his behind throbbed—Connor wasn't sure if it was psychosomatic or real—when he thought about what Angel would think of that. Well, he could still make it if he ran...

After school, Connor headed to the Hyperion. Angel's car was outside, but when he slipped through the front door of the hotel, it appeared deserted. He called out a tentative "Hello?" and was about to leave when Dawn called downstairs to him.

"Connor? Is that you?" she asked, sounding hopeful.

"Yeah," he replied, mounting the stairs.

She stuck her head out of her room and beckoned him to join her.

"I'm not allowed out of my—your—this room," Dawn explained. "But you can come in. I asked Spike if it was okay."

"Where are they?" Connor asked.

"Out."

"It's the middle of the day," Connor said, trying not to be too suspicious, but his eyes surreptitiously swept the room for piles of dust anyway.

Dawn shrugged. "They're always doing stupid stuff like that. Guess they have a sewer shortcut for everything."

"I didn't hear from anyone last night or this morning..." Connor said.

"Yeah, I think Angel told Spike to leave you alone for awhile," Dawn explained.

"Have they found out anything more about the charm thing?" he asked.

"I don't know," Dawn answered. "I'm afraid to ask."

"Look," Connor said bluntly. "Do you promise you didn't, like, go all stabby on them?"

"What?" Dawn asked, taken aback. "Of course I didn't. Why would you say that?"

"Well, you are the Slayer's sister..." Connor said lamely.

Dawn frowned.

"I've known Spike and Angel like, my whole life," she said. "I think if I was gonna do it, I'd have done it by now."

"Okay," Connor said. "It's just … I mean, I know you got in trouble."

Dawn blushed scarlet as the realization of what he meant hit her.

"Oh my god. Please tell me Angel didn't tell you about that," she said, looking everywhere but at his face.

"He didn't. Spike did."

"Even worse," she lamented. "Can he not keep anything to himself?"

"Nope," Connor answered lightly, feeling any lingering irritation he'd had with her dissolving. She looked kind of cute when she blushed like that. "No concept of privacy, either one of them. Except when it comes to their own."

"No kidding," Dawn muttered.

"I'm sorry you got it," Connor offered, sitting down on the floor beside Dawn's bed and resting his back on it.

"It's okay. It was nothing like what you got," she said, her face coloring even further.

"I don't know. There were no spoons used on me. I didn't know Spike had it in him to be so strict."

"What do you mean?" Dawn asked, smiling slightly.

"You know," Connor said uncomfortably, not wanting to say the words. "The uh … the whuppin' he gave you. He indicated that it was pretty severe."

Dawn openly laughed and sat down on the bed.

"What's so funny?" Connor asked, confused.

"Spike," Dawn said good-naturedly, "is _such _a liar!"

"He didn't really punish you?" Connor asked, immediately ashamed of himself for feeling a little bit disappointed.

"Well, he did," she said, still smiling. "But I'm not sure it went exactly how he told you it went."

"He said you went to bed, and I quote, 'one sorry little girl,'" Connor said.

"Well, yeah, I was sorry. I am sorry, still."

"Tell me what really happened, then," Connor invited.

Dawn blushed again and hesitated, but she eventually gave in.

"Angel was really mad. Like, it was scary," she said.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Connor agreed.

"I mean, I remember Angelus, and I think he can be scarier now," Dawn insisted.

"Yeah. I'm still right there with you," Connor said, smiling.

"And, you know, some stuff happened," she said hesitantly.

"You got chased to your room with a wooden spoon," Connor supplied helpfully.

"Right. Thanks," she said dryly. "I'd forgotten."

"You may as well tell me the rest," Connor said when Dawn appeared unwilling to continue. "It's only fair. You got to actually see me get my ass beat."

Connor hadn't thought it possible, but Dawn managed to turn even redder.

"I'm sorry about that. It was all my fault," Dawn apologized. "Are you mad at me?"

"Nah," Connor said, waving her off. "Stop stalling and tell the story."

Dawn cleared her throat and smiled an embarrassed smile as she continued.

"So Spike showed up right when Angel was about to let me have it—like, I was over … you know, across his lap—and he jerked the spoon out of his hand and threw it halfway across the room. I think he was aiming for the window, but it didn't quite make it. And then they got into an argument."

Connor nodded. That sounded about right.

"Angel let me up, and I kinda thought I was saved, you know. But then Spike told your dad that if anyone was going to be dishing it out to me, it was him, because he'd practically helped raise me, and blah blah blah."

"Yeah?" Connor said. "What'd my dad say?"

"He picked that stupid spoon up off the floor and shoved it at him," she explained. "And told him that if he didn't do it right, he might get a demonstration himself."

"Whoa," Connor said, laughing. "I bet Spike was pissed."

"He wasn't too happy," Dawn confirmed. "He told Angel to get the hell out, and then he locked the door behind him."

"Then he gave you a 'right good hiding?'" Connor quoted, complete with a fake British accent that made Dawn laugh.

"Sorta," she said, looking down at the floor. She'd started to absently run her fingers through Connor's hair. He didn't mind too much.

"Well?" he prompted.

"I can't believe you're making me tell you this stuff," Dawn said as she continued to smile, embarrassed.

"Hey, it _was_ all your fault," Connor pointed out magnanimously.

"Okay, okay," Dawn conceded. "So at this point, I was kinda nervous..."

Connor looked up at her skeptically.

"Okay, so I was terrified," she admitted. "And honestly, all I could think about was how Angel had told you that you wouldn't be able to sit down for a week."

It was Connor's turn to blush. He'd hoped Dawn had forgotten all about that during her own ordeal.

"He likes to exaggerate," he said weakly.

"Whatever," Dawn said doubtfully, still playing with his hair. "I didn't have to think about it too long, though, because Spike, well, he was pretty pissed off at me himself. And he pretty much ordered me to … to pull my pants down."

"Really?" Connor asked, and before he could stop it, his lecherous, disobedient mind had wondered what color panties she might have been wearing. Would it be wrong to ask her? Yes, definitely. Would it be wrong to ask Spike? Might get him punched in the mouth...

"That's what I said!" Dawn exclaimed, snapping him out of it. "I told him no way, using a few choice words that he said shouldn't come out of a mouth this pretty."

She rolled her eyes, but smiled on.

"You dropped the F bomb again, didn't you?" Connor asked.

"Yeah. A few times. Along with a 'pervert' and a 'go back to hell.' He didn't ask me again. He just reached out and yanked them down himself, and then I was upside down over his knee before I even knew it. Guess he took lessons from your dad."

"Hey," Connor said. "My dad may look like an old pro, but he just started this a few weeks ago."

"Yeah, that you know of," Dawn said, arching an eyebrow.

Connor frowned. That was a point which he had no desire to ponder.

"I don't know, it sounds to me like Spike let you have it pretty good," he said, suddenly finding himself wishing that he could have seen it all unfold.

"I thought I was done for," she admitted, laughing. "And he hit me with that damn thing all right—exactly twice. Then he threw it on the floor again and just … I mean, you know, he just gave me a few whacks with his hand. Then he burst into tears and hugged me and told me never to make him have to do that again."

"Wow," Connor said. "Yeah, that is not the version I heard. Spike told me you screamed bloody murder."

"Oh, well, that part's true," she replied, blushing yet again.

"You don't seem too upset about it," Connor pointed out.

Dawn shook her head.

"I know I've been a horrible bitch ever since I got here. I'm just glad he didn't let Angel do it," she said, sounding relieved. "But I mean, God, when Buffy was my age, she and Angel … Well, he wasn't punishing her, not like that."

"Not that you know of, anyway," Connor replied suggestively, taking his revenge.

"Ew. I don't even want to think about that!" Dawn replied, shoving his shoulder lightly.

"Well then, you, young lady," Connor said in mock sternness as he got to his feet, "better just be good from now on."

"Oh yeah?" she said, smiling impishly. "What do you plan on doing about it if I'm not?"

"Gee, I don't know," Connor replied, responding to the obviously flirtatious tone of her voice. He leaned down toward her with one knee on the bed. "Maybe I'll just tell Angel all about how you don't think Spike did a good enough job..."

"You wouldn't!" she said breathlessly, locking eyes with him. She added coyly, "Besides, Spike made me hide the wooden spoon anyway."

"Oh yeah?" Connor asked, moving in closer to whisper in her ear. "Maybe I'll just finish it myself, then."

He wasn't sure what exactly had come over him, and he certainly didn't want to hurt her—he didn't want anyone to hurt her—but hearing Dawn tell the story had had a different effect on him from hearing Spike tell it.

"If you think you're man enough," she replied brashly, blushing now in a way that was anything but embarrassed.

Connor couldn't help himself. He leaned in and kissed her hard. She reciprocated eagerly, and pulled him down into a sitting position on the bed before promptly crawling into his lap. He'd never had a girl do that before. It was nice. She threw her arms around his neck and had her tongue halfway into his mouth when they were interrupted by an unexpected knock on the door frame.

Dawn gasped at the sudden appearance of Angel, who was leaning one shoulder against the frame as if he'd been there for awhile. Connor really, really hoped he hadn't. Dawn heaved herself off of him and retreated backwards on the bed until her back met the wall.

"Well," Angel commented, frowning uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry," Dawn said immediately.

Connor wasn't sorry, and while he also wasn't at all sure that his father wouldn't take the belt to both of them on the spot, he still had other, more pressing concerns. He quickly got to his feet and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"I'll give you twenty bucks not to tell Spike about this!"


	16. Chapter 16

"Tell me about what?" Spike asked, appearing behind Angel and peeking over his shoulder into the room.

"Oh, God," Dawn said quietly.

"Connor!" Spike said after surveying the situation for a few seconds. "You—what—what did you do to her?"

He shoved past Angel and came straight toward Dawn, checking her over carefully while Connor helplessly watched on.

"I didn't do anything to her!" he finally got out.

"Right, so that's why this place smells like a hormone party," Spike said doubtfully.

"You are so gross," Dawn commented. "We were just kissing."

"You're not allowed to kiss her," Spike informed Connor. "She's too young for kissing."

"I am not!" Dawn said indignantly. "Buffy was seventeen when she and Angel had sex!"

"Yeah, and look how well that turned out," Spike said dryly. "Besides, who said anything about sex? I said you're too young for kissing. You're flat out never allowed to have sex."

"I'll just go," Connor said quietly, attempting to slip past Angel.

"Hold up," Angel said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"You're not going anywhere, Casanova," Spike said, flustered. "Angel, you need to punish your spawn severely. I don't care if he's recovered from the last time or not."

Connor glanced uneasily at Angel, but he was clearly amused.

"You can't punish them for kissing, Spike," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Says who?" Spike asked.

"I don't know. You just can't," Angel responded.

"This isn't over," Spike promised, pointing a finger at Connor as he pushed him and Angel unceremoniously out the door and shut it behind them.

"Guess we're dismissed," Angel commented. "You wanna come down to my office and talk?"

"Okay," Connor agreed, figuring that if Dawn hadn't begun screaming yet, then Spike probably wasn't going to kill her.

Connor followed Angel to his office and dropped into the chair in front of his desk. He peered at him uncertainly, trying to guess which of many awkward topics his dad might broach first.

Angel sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

"I'm really glad you came by," he said. "I wasn't sure you would."

"Well, I hadn't heard anything from you for awhile, so..." Connor said, shrugging.

"Yeah," Angel said. "I thought … I thought you might want some time, you know. To yourself. After what happened."

"Time to plot my revenge?" Connor asked, smiling mischievously.

"I was hoping time to cool off," Angel said, ignoring Connor's attempt at humor. "I know you must be pretty pissed at me. I'm sorry your father's a jerk."

"That's okay," he replied lightly. "I have another one."

"I mean it, Connor. I'm sorry," Angel said. "I should have listened to you instead of..."

"Hey, it's fine, Dad," Connor said, and found he meant it. "Not like I didn't deserve that for any number of other things."

Angel glanced up. "What things?"

Connor laughed. "That is so not the point."

"Okay," Angel agreed.

"Do you think I could make a request, though?" Connor asked tentatively while Angel seemed to be so amenable.

"Shoot."

"Do you think, like, maybe... Maybe in the future, it could be in private? I mean, Spike already knew that you … I mean, I had to tell him about it because he was convinced you'd half killed me for something once... But Dawn..."

"Spike already yelled at me for it, don't worry," Angel said, smiling guiltily.

"He did?" Connor asked uncomfortably. "I didn't ask him to say anything to you about it."

"You didn't have to," Angel answered. "He loves any excuse to point out my faults."

"Yeah," Connor acknowledged.

"But listen, Connor," Angel said seriously. "I don't think you need to worry about that anymore. I crossed a line that I shouldn't have and punished you unfairly. So … So I was thinking maybe this isn't working out."

"What do you mean?" Connor asked quietly, feeling sick. "Are you saying you don't want me to come around anymore?"

"What? No!" Angel said, immediately coming around the desk and pulling a chair up beside Connor. "Of course I want you around. I want that more than anything."

"Then what are you saying?" Connor asked, and the dread in his stomach wouldn't quite lift.

"I messed up, Connor," Angel said softly. "I-I'm not very good at this whole fatherhood thing. I mean, maybe … maybe if I could have kept you safe … if I could have kept you here with me, maybe I could have gotten better... I'm just saying, maybe it would be better for us if we tried to be friends instead of me trying to force you to accept me as your father. You have a whole other life now, a life I can't be a part of."

Connor felt tears sting his eyes, and he hastily blinked them back.

"Angel," he said, and then had to swallow several times to choke back the crying fit that threatened to come. "You did the best you could. I know that now. I get it."

"I should have done better," Angel argued. "I should have found a way to get you out of there, and … and we could have been together, a real family."

"Why can't we be a real family now?" Connor asked, anguished. "Why are you saying these things? So what if I have another life? I don't need another friend! I have enough of those."

"I wanted to give you everything," Angel said helplessly.

"But you don't like who I am now," Connor said sadly, giving in and just letting the tears roll down his cheeks. "That's what this is about. You want the little boy you never got to raise. You don't want me."

"Connor!" Angel exclaimed gently, pulling Connor right out of his chair and into his lap.

A small part of Connor felt ridiculous sitting on Angel's lap like a toddler, but the majority of him was too heartbroken to care. Angel wrapped his arms around him tightly and didn't seem at all irritated that he'd completely broken down.

"Hush," Angel murmured into his ear. "Of course I want you. You are my little boy. You'll always be my little boy. Even if you're not so little anymore."

"You don't want me here," Connor insisted brokenly. "I've done too much … completely crazy shit, and you don't want me here."

"Yes, I do," Angel said firmly, taking him by the chin and forcing him to look him in the eye. "I love you more than anything in any of the worlds."

"Then why can't we keep doing what we were doing?" Connor asked, blinking furiously and scrubbing at his wet cheeks with the back of one hand. "Why do you want to change things?"

"I don't know, Connor. I'm stupid," Angel said, rubbing his shoulders. "After I spanked you so hard when you hadn't even done anything wrong..."

"So what?" Connor asked shakily. "You think that's the first time something like that ever happened? Things like that happen all the time. It was a misunderstanding. Yeah, I got my ass busted, and I didn't like it, but it didn't kill me. It just pissed me off a little."

Connor took deep breaths, trying to get himself under control. Angel released his grip on him, and he returned to his own chair and leaned forward to stare at the front of the desk, his elbows propped on his knees.

"I'm sorry, son," Angel said, leaning over and draping his arm around his shoulders. "Forget I said any of that. Except the good parts, I mean. I want you in my life forever."

"Okay," Connor said, his breath hitching.

"I guess I just got scared when I … well, when I punished you because I was angry. I shouldn't have done that. You were right all along; you are too old for it."

"I'm only nineteen," Connor said, sniffling.

Angel regarded him silently for a few seconds before laughing and tousling his hair affectionately.

"Are you telling me you're okay with it, then?" he asked incredulously. "Even with that part of the way we've been doing things?"

Connor shrugged uncomfortably.

"As long as you don't spank me in front of any more girls," he muttered.

Angel pulled Connor close to him and kissed the top of his head.

"I promise," he said solemnly.

"Thanks, Dad," Connor replied, wiping his sleeves across both eyes. "God, you must think I just cry all the time about everything."

"I'd cry too if Spike just caught me kissing Dawn," Angel said unexpectedly, making Connor laugh. "I guess I don't get that twenty bucks, huh?"

"Unfortunately not," Connor answered. "Do you think he's gonna kick my ass?"

"Maybe," Angel answered honestly. "Did you see the look on his face, though? That was priceless."

"I guess," Connor said doubtfully. "Is he … I mean, is he jealous, do you think?"

It hadn't occurred to him until that moment, but maybe Spike had a thing for Dawn. After all, she wouldn't be seventeen forever, and he _would_ be however old he was forever.

"No, I don't think that's it," Angel said dismissively. "I was always the one chasing the young girls."

"Oh," Connor said, for want of a better word. "Disturbing" was another word that came to mind, but it wasn't a better one, so he kept it to himself.

"He'll get over it," Angel assured him.

"I hope so," Connor replied, getting to his feet.

"Connor, wait," Angel said hesitantly. "Sit back down."

"Oh. Okay," Connor said.

"Listen," Angel said, frowning. "You … You do know about sex and everything, right?"

"Oh god," Connor said bluntly.

"I can take that as a yes?" Angel asked hopefully.

"Dad, I know more about sex than I wish I did," Connor replied. "Regular and demon style."

"That's … good. Yes, that's … that's good," Angel said uncertainly.

They sat there in awkward silence and Connor thought for one awful, fleeting moment that Angel might bring up Cordelia, but he didn't.

"What do you think they're doing up there?" Connor eventually asked, pointing in the general direction of Dawn's room.

"Playing chess?" Angel guessed.

"Does either of them know how?" Connor asked.

"Spike does," Angel said, nodding. "But he cheats."

"He cheats?" Connor asked, laughing. "How do you cheat at chess?"

"I do not cheat, Angel," Spike said, suddenly appearing noiselessly behind them. "You're just that bad at it. Stop filling that boy's head full of lies."

Connor got to his feet and regarded Spike apprehensively, waiting for the outburst or the volley of fists to come. Spike's eyes surveyed his tear-stained cheeks, and he flushed, wishing that he'd gotten a chance to wash up before he had to face the music.

"Relax," Spike said. "I'm not going to pummel you. Not this time, anyway."

Connor exhaled slowly, trying not to show his relief.

"It's not me you need to be worried about, anyhow," Spike continued, shaking his head. "The Slayer's little sister—you couldn't have picked a more dangerous conquest, could you, mate?"

"Not a conquest," Connor mumbled, feeling for all the world like he was being scolded. By Spike. Of all people. "It was just a kiss."

"Sure, because we interrupted it," Spike said.

"I wasn't going to do anything with her," Connor insisted.

"If you really believed that, you wouldn't have tried to hide it from me," Spike said matter-of-factly. "And I know it's not my business, but I just wish you wouldn't take it any further. Not until she's older. If she still wants you then, fine."

"Okay," Connor said weakly.

"Don't look so glum, mate," Spike said, cheering slightly. "It's not your fault, anyway. Look whose kid you are. Of course you can't keep it in your pants."

"Hey!" Angel said quietly, giving Spike a dirty look.

"What?" Spike said innocently.

"Listen, Connor," Angel said after rolling his eyes at Spike. "If you're up for it, there are some things you might want to hear about the Oxley Charm."

Connor really didn't care, but he found himself nodding anyway. Anything to get out of this horrible, awkward conversation he was in now. He excused himself to the nearest bathroom so he could wash his face. What an awful day. Well, not all of it. That kiss had been pretty sweet...


	17. Chapter 17

"I'm telling you, it was there," Connor insisted for the twelfth time. "She saw it, I saw it, we even saw it together."

"Well, if it was there, it's gone now," Angel said. "We checked it out. No magic shop around there and no record of any magic shop."

"We'll go there at sundown," Connor said. "I'll show you exactly where it was."

"Okay," Angel said. "That might help. Maybe we can find something there."

"Maybe it only appears when you need it to appear," Dawn said, approaching them from the bottom of the stairs.

"Yeah, like in _Harry Potter_!" Connor exclaimed, feeling like a nerd.

"Exactly!" Dawn said excitedly as she came to his side. "Finally, someone who knows what I'm talking about!"

"You seem to be out of your room," Spike said, eying Dawn disapprovingly as she linked her arm in Connor's.

"Yeah, well, I thought I could maybe … help?" she asked, giving Spike her best imploring smile. "Please?"

"Fine," Spike relented. "But if you're going to help, you're _really_ going to help. This isn't one of those study sessions where you've really just gone to make out."

"Yes, teacher," Dawn said flippantly, giving him a playful smirk.

"Here," Angel said, pushing a book toward Dawn. "Start reading."

"Okay," she said docilely, and Connor figured that Angel really must have put the fear of God in her if she didn't complain even a little.

Connor was so worn out that he really wanted to ask if he could go home, but after having just booed and hooed all over Angel because he thought he didn't want him around... Well, he'd just tough it out.

He perused his own book for a few minutes before something in Dawn's caught his eye. He reached over—making sure to graze as much of Dawn's body as he could in the process—and gently pulled a tattered page from the back of the volume.

"Hey," he said, getting everyone's attention. "Is this supposed to be like this?"

He held the page up by one dog-eared corner so they could see the prominent sketch of the Oxley Charm.

"My missing page!" Spike exclaimed, grabbing for it.

"Be careful!" Angel scolded, just as excited.

"We thought this was lost!" Spike said, laying it gently on his part of the counter and smoothing it out to read. "Doesn't even go in that book. Must have got all jumbled up."

Dawn remained suspiciously quiet and uninterested, but Connor didn't call her on it. He had enough experience to know that she was trying to cover her own ass for something. He'd ask her about it later.

"Uh oh," Spike said ominously.

"What 'uh oh?'" Angel asked, trying to see over his shoulder. "What is it?"

"'Quor-toth,'" Spike read. "That uh … That means something to you lot, if I recall."

"Shit," Connor said immediately, not knowing what this thing had to do with his "hometown" and not needing to know to know it was bad. He crowded over Spike's other shoulder.

"Language, Connor," Angel corrected absently.

"Says here that it was forged in Quor-toth, the darkest of the dark worlds," Spike summarized. "So that it may one day unleash the glory of that dimension upon all others."

"Glory?" Dawn said, paling. "That is 'glory' with a little G, right? Not a capital one?"

"Yeah, pet," Spike said gently.

"What do we do with it?" Angel stupidly asked of Connor.

"How should I know?" he replied indignantly. "I didn't bring it here. What makes you think I should know something about it all of a sudden? Do you know everything about everything made in Ireland? Can I say the words 'lucky charms' and you magically have information you didn't have before?"

"Calm down, Junior," Spike said. "He didn't mean anything by it."

"Sorry," Angel said quietly.

"You're sorry?" Spike murmured over his shoulder to Angel. "He's the one having a tantrum for no reason."

"Look, I'm sorry. I just—I don't even know what you guys wanted this thing _for_," Connor reminded them. "Like, why have you been looking for it, anyway?"

Angel and Spike exchanged a private glance.

"Oh no," Connor protested. "Huh uh. We are not doing that. No secrets. We are truthing it up right now, because I am hungry, tired, and have a ton of homework to do. So spill."

Angel glanced around the room. Spike bit his lip.

"Well?" Connor demanded.

"Buffy," Angel said so quietly that Connor barely heard it.

"What?" he asked. "Buffy what?"

"We heard Buffy needed it. For something," Spike clarified. "So we thought, you know, if we could get it for her..."

Dawn let out a frustrated groan.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me!" she said shrilly. "Why is everything always about Buffy? Ugh! What is _wrong_ with you people? With all of you?"

"I didn't do anything," Connor muttered.

"Not you," Dawn assured him calmly, then promptly returned to her agitated state.

"I mean, seriously?" she continued. "I'm not supposed to tell, but she totally deserves it for refusing to give me any information at all."

"What?" Angel asked.

"Your precious Buffy is here," Dawn said.

"Where?" Spike asked, looking around eagerly as if she might magically appear before them. Connor would have laughed at him, but hey—stranger things had happened.

"Here, in L.A.," Dawn said. "Looking for that stupid thing, I guess. Not that she bothered to mention that to me."

"She is?" Angel asked. "What … why … how come she didn't come see me?"

"You mean 'us,' mate," Spike corrected sardonically. "The correct term there would be 'us.'"

"Yeah, whatever," Angel said, waving him off.

"Did you really think I would just show up here for no good reason?" Dawn asked doubtfully. "I mean, come on."

"You said they were painting your house and the fumes made you nauseous," Angel said.

"Really? That's what you went with?" Connor asked Dawn, amused.

"It worked, didn't it?" she said defensively.

"Well, call her!" Angel said. "Call her right now and tell her we have it!"

"Excuse me, but you are _not_ taking the credit for this," Dawn said brazenly. "Who found the damn thing in the first place? That's right—me. So back off."

"All right, bit, we get it," Spike said. "You found it, despite _Angel_ trying to hold you back, and going completely mental on you about it."

"Yeah," Angel scoffed. "I'm mental."

"Guys!" Connor interrupted. "Shut up. Please, I mean."

All three of them stared at him a moment. He cleared his throat.

"I'm having trouble understanding why you didn't just go ahead and call her when you—when Dawn, I mean—found the thing," he prompted. "What the hell? If you knew she was looking for it?"

"Well, I mean … We were going to call her, but you know. It's just … Sometimes things come up, and then you don't get around to it..." Angel hemmed and hawed.

"What your dimwitted father is trying to say," Spike interjected, "is that we wanted to figure out what she wanted it for. So that we could come in and save the day first."

"I was thinking more along the lines of me being the day saver, but yes," Angel admitted.

"Oh, brother," Connor said to Dawn, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, so I think you should call her."

"Fine," Dawn said, sniffing. She sounded indignant, though Connor wasn't sure why.

Dawn retrieved her cell phone and held down Buffy's speed dial number. She rolled her eyes while it rang. And rang. Eventually, they heard it go to voice mail, and Dawn left a clipped message asking Buffy to call her back pronto.

"Happy?" she asked, snapping her phone shut.

"No," Spike and Angel said in unison.

"Hope she calls back soon," Spike muttered, rocking back and forth on his heels impatiently.

"Yeah," Angel agreed, staring intently at Dawn's phone.

"Wow," Connor said. "A watched pot never boils, you know."

"That's okay. We don't eat," Angel said seriously.

"Speak for yourself," Spike disagreed. "I personally like those—"

"Yeah, yeah," Angel interrupted. "The onion things. I know. For heaven's sake, everyone knows, Spike."

"Do I have to wait here and listen to you bicker?" Connor asked. "Because I _do_ eat, and I'm starving. I'd like to go get something, if you guys can remain here and play nice with each other."

"I want to come!" Dawn said, but shrank under the reproving look that Spike gave her. "Go," she amended. "I want to go out with Connor. For food! Just for food."

"Okay, but leave your phone here," Angel said. "In case she calls back."

"No way," Dawn protested. "We won't be gone that long!"

Angel and Spike looked at them skeptically.

"Well, not on purpose," she added.

"You can go, but I get the phone," Angel insisted.

"Why do you get the phone?" Spike protested. "I'll keep the phone."

"Hello? I already said no," Dawn pointed out. "Neither one of you is keeping my phone. You'd just go through all my stuff, and that's majorly uncool."

"Fine. We'll all go out together," Angel decided.

"Daylight," Connor said, bored.

"Then you'll wait half an hour, won't you?" Angel said shortly.

"Okay, Dad. Geez," Connor said, finding himself properly cowed by his dad's tone of voice. "Do you think I could borrow a shower, then?"

"Of course, pal," Angel said more gently. "Use mine."

"Yeah, that's where all the good hair care products are," Spike said, nodding.

"I knew it! I _knew_ you'd been using my hair gel again!" Angel accused. "Stay out of my bathroom!"

"Your knickers, they're all a-twist," Spike said, amused, but he didn't deny the allegation.

"You better not know anything about my knickers," Angel returned. "In fact, just stay out of my room altogether."

"Jesus," Connor muttered, pushing himself away from the desk and heading toward the stairs.

"I want to take a shower, too," Dawn announced.

"No," Spike said immediately. "You can just stay dirty. No way in hell are we risking the two of you being naked together."

"Fine," Dawn huffed, defeated.

Spike was right. Angel did have all the good hair care products. As well as all the good … well, everything else in the bathroom. Connor washed some of the day's stress away with a little Estée Lauder for Men.

Alone with his thoughts, he admitted to himself why Angel's words had upset him so much. They had been too reminiscent of Holtz. Holtz had tried to give him back to Angel—or at least, he'd said that's what he was doing, whether it was for Connor's benefit or simply to fulfill his own vengeance. And now Angel—what? Wanted to pass him on to the Reillys for good? No, Connor knew that wasn't true. He still felt a little depressed anyway, though.

Food would cure his depression. That was legitimate, right?

"No, I want pizza," he heard Dawn insisting as he returned to the lobby.

"You eat too much pizza," Spike argued. "Let's go to that pub. Angel, you know the one."

"I'm seventeen!" Dawn protested. "I don't think I'm allowed in anything called a 'pub.' Besides, you don't even have to eat. You're just being mean."

"I am not being mean," Spike said. "Never have I been mean to you, pet, not ever."

Connor sighed. He really wasn't going to be able to listen to much more of them.

"Connor, where do you want to eat?" Angel asked.

"Nope," Connor answered simply. "You're not putting this on me. Nice try, though. I will go wherever, with whoever, and eat whatever. As long as we go now."

Dawn gave him a look that clearly displayed her feelings of betrayal.

"Oh, um. But I want pizza," he added hastily, and she smiled.

"Already whipped," Spike muttered, grabbing his leather duster from the back of a chair.


	18. Chapter 18

Somehow, Dawn talked Angel into letting her and Connor sit at a separate booth from them. Connor was kind of amazed that Angel allowed that. His other parents never would have gone for it—he knew, because he'd seen his sister try, whine, and then get grounded for her troubles.

"So, uh," Connor said awkwardly, fully aware that Spike was staring him down from two booths away. "What happened earlier? With Spike? He didn't... I mean, you didn't get punished or anything, did you?"

"No, God," Dawn said, cramming more pizza than should have been physically possible into her mouth. "I wish. It was so much worse. He talked to me about sex. A lot."

The mouthful of water Connor had just swallowed abruptly turned and made its way down his windpipe, and he coughed loudly.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said quietly, once he was able to breathe again. "I don't know what came over me. I wasn't gonna try anything like that."

"You weren't?" she asked, sounding awfully disappointed.

"No!" he insisted. "That's not … It wasn't my intention. You just … You looked really cute, and it made me turn all stupid."

"Well, you are a boy," Dawn commented, but she was clearly pleased about the "cute" comment.

"Angel tried to talk to me about sex, too," Connor admitted. "But I told him I knew it all already."

"Do you?" Dawn asked genuinely. "Know it all?"

"Oh, well," Connor said, blushing uncomfortably. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm not like an expert or anything. But I was afraid he would break out the condoms and cucumbers at any moment."

Dawn rolled her eyes.

"I tried to tell Spike I didn't need a sex ed lesson from him," she said, "but he told me I was going to listen to him and that he'd duct tape my mouth shut if he had to. Then he told me that some people like that sort of thing..."

Connor made a face.

"Yeah, I know," Dawn said, laughing. "That is so not the worst thing he said. You don't even want to know. I think he made half those words up."

"You're right," Connor replied. "I don't want to know."

"At one point, I begged him to just let me go find the wooden spoon," she said.

"What'd he say?" Connor asked, grinning.

"He said some people like that sort of thing, too," she said, grimacing. "I didn't say anything else after that."

Connor glanced in the direction of his dad and Spike to see that Spike was _still_ staring him down. He frowned and did his best "What?" gesture, and amazingly, the vampire looked away.

"I hope your sister calls soon," Connor commented as he idly pulled a piece of pepperoni from his pizza and put it in his mouth.

"Sure," Dawn said without conviction.

"What's the matter?" Connor asked, picking up on her lack of enthusiasm.

"Nothing," Dawn muttered, playing with her food.

"Tell me," Connor invited.

"It's just," Dawn said, "as soon as she finds out we have it, we'll go home."

"So?" Connor asked. "Don't you miss home?"

"Not really," she said bluntly. "Home doesn't have a you in it."

"Oh," Connor said lamely.

He thought he suddenly understood why Spike was acting the way he was about Dawn. Dawn had to go home—wherever that was—sooner rather than later, and now he'd gone and put relationship ideas into her head. He hadn't meant to, he really hadn't. He didn't even _want_ a relationship, and besides, she was only seventeen. He didn't _feel_ much older than that, but there were laws against that sort of thing, and oh god, he was a cad. He was a rotten, lowly cad who had led this girl on and now she—

"Connor?" Dawn asked, and he jumped.

"Huh?" he said.

"You okay?" she said. "You look a little sick."

"I'm just tired," he mumbled, wanting desperately to change both the subject at hand and the subject in his head. "Hey, listen. Earlier, when I found that page that had been ripped out in the back of your book..."

"I didn't mean to," she whispered urgently, glancing first toward Spike and Angel and then leaning over the table toward him. "I didn't know what it was; it's just my luck that it'd be a page about that stupid charm."

"What happened?" Connor asked.

"I accidentally ripped it out," she explained. "The first night we met. When you and Angel were in the kitchen, obviously talking about me."

"Oh," Connor said, wondering how it was that she'd somehow made _him_ feel guilty.

"I dropped the book," she said. "But I totally didn't mean to, and the page ripped out when I tried to catch it, so I shoved it in the back of another book. Please don't tell Angel. He'll kill me."

Connor shrugged. "It doesn't matter now, anyway, really."

"Yeah, but just … Let's not tell him anyway, okay?"

"Okay," Connor agreed.

"So what's Quor-toth?" Dawn asked casually, and Connor started choking on his water again.

"I grew up there," he finally answered. "That's all."

"What was it like?" Dawn asked.

Thankfully—sort of—Connor was saved from having to answer that question as Spike and Angel joined them at their table. He wondered for a moment if they had overheard his and Dawn's conversation, but as Angel wasn't pulling Dawn from the booth by her ear and Spike wasn't forbidding Connor to even mention the word "sex," they must not have.

"Shove over," Spike said, and Connor slid down to make room for him.

Dawn—reluctantly—made room for Angel on her side.

"She hasn't called back," she announced, rolling her eyes.

"Can you take us exactly where you went in the magic shop?" Angel asked. "After you finish eating, of course."

"Yeah, sure," Connor said.

Spike reached right over and took Dawn's half-eaten slice of pizza off her plate. He had it almost to his lips when Angel slapped it out of his hand.

"Hey!" he protested.

"That has garlic in it, Spike," Angel whispered. "You'll get sick."

"But I wanted it," Spike said sadly, staring at the discarded pizza with longing.

"We'll get you something else later," Angel promised.

"So, how long have you been mothering Spike?" Connor asked lightly, which earned him a glare from the two vampires.

"Too much lip from you, little brother," Spike said. "Angel, pay the bill and let's get out of here."

Angel rolled his eyes, but laid money on the table anyway.

* * *

"Yep, that's a portal," Connor declared almost indifferently when, several minutes later, they stood beside the small shimmering pool of light that now resided where the magic shop had been. "No doubt about it."

"Get away from it!" Angel said frantically, placing an arm across Connor's chest and dragging him roughly backward. He held onto him tightly, and Connor felt a pang of sadness for both of them, knowing that Angel was thinking of the night they'd lost each other.

"Relax, Dad," he said with a calm that he didn't feel. "I wasn't gonna jump in or anything."

Instead of relaxing, though, Angel wrapped both arms around Connor's shoulders and rested his chin on top of his head. Connor leaned back into the embrace, not really caring if it cramped his style.

"You didn't notice that you went through a portal? More than once, at that?" Spike demanded of Dawn, his tone incredulous. "You have seen portals before, pet. All of us have."

"It didn't look like this before," Dawn said defensively. "It just looked like a store."

"A crappy store," Connor added. "But yeah, she's right."

"Maybe some sort of glamor," Angel said, shrugging.

"And you said there was an old lady?" Spike questioned. "Was there anyone else?"

"Not that I saw," Dawn answered. "Connor?"

"No, just her," Connor agreed.

"When did you first come here, Dawn?" Angel asked, refusing to let Connor go and just murmuring right into his hair.

"Um..." Dawn said, apparently reluctant to tell him.

"Bit," Spike said warningly. "Just tell the truth. You won't get in any trouble."

"It's not that," she said, paling. "It's just, I came here with Buffy. The night we got in town. Before I showed up on your doorstep."

"So..." Spike said slowly. "That's when you saw the Oxley Charm?"

"Yeah," she said.

"And so, Buffy must have seen it, too?" he asked.

"I guess," Dawn said. "But I didn't know she was looking for it. She never said anything about it to me, I swear."

"She may have come back for it," Angel said quietly to Spike.

"Dawn, have you heard from her at all since you've been with us?" Spike asked. "Anything since the two of you parted ways?"

"No," Dawn replied, looking and probably feeling sick. "But I didn't think anything about it. She's always really busy these days."

"Where did she say she was going?" Spike asked.

Dawn shrugged. "She didn't. She said she'd come for me when she got her stuff done."

"She didn't leave you any other way to contact her?" Angel asked, clearly annoyed.

"Nope," Dawn whispered.

"Irresponsible," Angel muttered. "She isn't a little girl anymore. She should know better than to do something like that."

"Leave her alone," Dawn said defensively. "She works really hard. You don't know all the stuff she's been through."

"Look," Connor said, pulling out of Angel's embrace. "I um … I kind of hate to say this, but do you think there's a chance she's _in_ there?" He nodded to the shimmering blue entrance of the portal. "And if so, do we have any idea where it goes?"

No one spoke. Spike looked around and found a chunk of rock that he carefully tossed toward the mouth of the portal. It should have gone in, but it bounced back and landed at his feet.

"You probably need the Oxley Charm to open it," Angel said. "We should go back to the hotel and—"

"No need," Spike said, reaching into his coat and producing the charm.

"You brought it?" Angel asked.

"Yep," Spike said nonchalantly.

"That was in the safe," Angel pointed out, frowning. "How did you get in my safe?"

"Please, Peaches," Spike said, rolling his eyes. "I know you like to think you're real mysterious and all, but you've been using the same combination for a hundred years."

Angel clenched his teeth together hard.

"Okay, fine," he eventually said. "Give it to me."

"Nuh uh," Spike said, snatching it out of Angel's grasp. "What makes you think you're going in? I'll go."

"Give it to me," Angel repeated firmly, holding out his hand for it.

"No," Spike said defiantly.

"Guys!" Connor exclaimed. "Neither of you is going. What's the matter with you? You don't even know where this thing leads. Or if you can get back!"

"We'll get back," Angel said dismissively. "We'll just use the charm."

"You don't know that it works that way! God!" Connor angrily snapped. "Listen, as someone who has a little experience with portals and hell dimensions, let me remind you that that _thing_ was forged in _Quor-toth._ What if that's where it goes? You can't just 'get back' from Quor-toth. Believe me, I fucking know!"

"If Buffy's trapped in there, we have to help her!" Dawn said frantically, her voice quavering.

"We'll get her," Connor answered immediately. "But we have to think this through first."

"There is no 'we' here that includes the two of you," Angel said. "You and Dawn go back to the hotel. Spike and I will look into this."

"No!" Connor shouted angrily. "Hell no!"

Angel crossed his arms over his chest as Spike, who was holding Dawn, looked increasingly uncomfortable.

"We'll be fine, Connor," Angel said. "Now do as I ask."

"I'm not going anywhere," Connor said, unconsciously mirroring Angel's stubborn pose. "And neither are you. You're not going in there like a fucking idiot. Screw that."

"One more swearword out of your mouth, son, and I'll make you eat a bar of soap," Angel threatened.

"Try it," Connor challenged, but the pitch of his voice went up anyway. "Just try it. You can't just pretend that this is about something stupid like that."

"Come on, mate," Spike said, his voice placating. Connor wasn't sure which one of them he was talking to, but neither of them paid him any attention.

"You've had an attitude all day, Connor, and I'm tired of it," Angel said.

"Well, excuse the _hell_ out of me," Connor huffed, "for thinking that my _dumb-ass_ father should have more sense than to throw himself through a portal to go looking for an ex-girlfriend that he's not even sure is on the other side! One who may not even _want_ to be found, seeing as how she didn't bother calling him to begin with!"

Angel grabbed for him, clearly ready to spank him right there in the—thankfully deserted—alley in front of God and everyone, but Spike intervened, catching Angel by the arm before he could catch Connor by his.

"Calm down, mate," he said, his voice soft but firm. "It's all right. He's just worried. No one needs a display of your dominance right now."

"Stay out of this, Spike," Angel said angrily, jerking his arm away and shrugging the collar of his coat back into place.

"Stop fighting!" Dawn shrieked, near tears. "God, and you wonder why Buffy didn't try to contact you! Stop it!"

Dawn abruptly and unexpectedly seized the Oxley Charm dangling from Spike's hand and leapt for the portal.

"No!" Connor shouted, diving for her and catching her around the knees.

"Connor!" Angel cried frantically as he realized that Dawn was being dragged slowly into the portal despite Connor's grasp on her.

Angel gripped Connor around the ankles, and as the three of them slid closer and closer to the mouth of the portal, Dawn's entire upper body vanished, leaving only her flailing legs that Connor desperately clung to.

"Either we're all going or none of us is," Spike said from the sidelines. "So stop this nonsense, because I really don't fancy getting up close and personal with Angel's midsection."

"You could help, you know!" Angel yelled, panting from the effort of pulling back on Connor and Dawn.

"Oh, fine," Spike said, apparently bored and looking at his fingernails. "I see how it is. Never want me around until you realize you really need me, and then it's all 'help us, Spike, please save us from the scary dimensional hole.' Well, I'll tell you a thing or two, Angel—"

"Spike!" Connor snapped angrily. "Get your ass over here! There might be some _thing _pulling on her from the other side, you idiot! And it's about to have all of us!"

"Right, then," Spike said, taking a different approach and running as fast as he could toward what was left of Dawn, t-boning her and effectively ripping her out of the portal.

Dawn came out screaming and rolled several feet before all the air had left her lungs.

"Are you hurt?" Spike asked frantically, checking her over as she lay on the ground. "Bit, are you hurt?"

"No," Dawn said, breathing hard. "But Buffy's there! I saw her! She's in there, but she's okay!"

"I'll get her," Spike said, reaching for the charm that Dawn still had clutched in her hand. "But first, I want you to know how I feel about what you just did."

Spike jerked Dawn up off the ground and, holding her around the waist, landed a series of impressively hard smacks to her backside. Amazingly, she didn't scream as Connor had expected she would—_he _may have screamed had it been him—but stood there stoically with her eyes tightly shut.

"Right, then," he said, nodding sharply, when he'd apparently decided she'd had enough. "I'll go get big sis. Angel, mind the kids, please."

"Spike, wait!" Angel called, but the cry fell on deaf ears.

Spike wrapped the chain of the Oxley Charm tightly around his wrist before bounding toward the shimmering blue opening of the portal. Within seconds, he was gone. With a pop that would have been comical under other circumstances, the entrance to the portal shrank to nothing, and the alley fell unnaturally silent.


	19. Chapter 19

_There's no action going on in this chapter, but I promise I'm working on it!_

_

* * *

_

Angel, completely shocked, sank down onto the concrete and just sat there with his elbows propped up on his sprawling knees, staring at the spot where the portal had been. Connor felt that the whole world had taken a turn for the surreal as he watched Dawn join his father and put her arm around him comfortingly. He didn't know if he should join them or what. He suddenly felt very out of place.

"He'll be back soon," he offered lamely. "Both of them. Don't worry."

Angel nodded slowly, as if he hadn't really even registered the words.

Connor sighed and sat down at Angel's other side, linking his arm in his.

"He's gone," Angel said hollowly after what felt like a long time.

"He'll be back, I said," Connor nearly snapped.

"No, I mean … I mean, you wouldn't understand, but—but I can feel him, you know, normally. And now I can't. He's gone."

Connor really wanted to ask if that wasn't a good thing, but Angel didn't seem to be in the mood for jokes.

"I'm gonna kick his ass when he gets back," Angel said out of the blue, and he sounded so perturbed that Connor laughed. "I mean it," Angel said, as if he really needed to be believed.

"Go for it," Connor said. "He'll fight back, though."

"Please," Angel scoffed. "I've been wiping the floor with him for over a hundred years."

"Can we get off this gross nasty ground now?" Dawn asked tentatively, eying her surroundings with disgust.

"You're just mad that your ass hurts," Angel said, sounding much more like a fellow teenager than a—how old was he, 500?—well, he just didn't sound like himself.

"It didn't hurt," Dawn muttered, blushing furiously.

"Right," Angel said, seemingly trying to make up for the current lack of Spike-style sarcasm.

"It's none of your business, anyway," Dawn said, standing up and brushing off the seat of her pants in a gesture clearly meant to also alleviate some of the lingering sting in her backside.

"Come on, Dad," Connor said gently, standing and offering Angel a hand up. "We can't just stay here all night. We don't know when they'll be back."

"I have to stay," Angel said, not moving. "What if it's daylight when they come back through?"

"Yeah, what if it is?" Connor said pointedly. "You'd just fry, too, wouldn't you?"

Angel shook his head and turned mutely back toward the now nonexistent portal.

"Dad," Connor said, putting his hand on Angel's shoulder. "Come on. It won't do any good to stay here. I'll come back in the daylight and wait for them, if it even comes to that. Dawn and I were apparently gone for hours that time, and if that's the same portal we went through, it might be hours before Spike and Buffy get back."

"I'll wait," Angel said, his mouth set in a grim line.

Connor resisted the urge to roll his eyes and ask if he planned to wait and make sure that Spike and Buffy didn't burst through the portal engaged in a passionate kiss. It was difficult, but he resisted.

"Dad," he said firmly. "We need to go home. You have to make me eat a bar of soap, remember?"

That seemed to shake Angel from his stupor somewhat, and he grinned rather sheepishly as he took Connor's hand and got to his feet.

"I wouldn't really make you do that," he said. "Besides, I think we only have body wash."

"Well, you have to make me drink a bottle of that, then," Connor said lightly.

"Fine. I'll go," Angel finally said. "But I want to come back and check soon."

"We will," Connor promised. "And if the sun comes up before we see them, Dawn and I will come."

"You have school," Angel protested.

"It's fine," Connor said, shrugging. "If I miss class and you want to—" he was suddenly very aware of Dawn standing there, but oh well—"...if you want to punish me for it, fine. But you're not coming back for a daytime stakeout."

Angel nodded his acceptance, and Connor, finally satisfied that his dad understood the gravity of the situation, pulled him by the arm to get him moving. Dawn followed suit without prompting. Thank God.

On the tediously slow walk back to the hotel, Angel asked Dawn what she had seen while she was dangling through the portal.

"It was a room," Dawn said. "Just like the magic shop. I guess it _was_ the magic shop. There were some bad looking demons in there, but Buffy was kicking ass."

Angel murmured something about Wesley and kicked a rock out of his path.

"I'll help you research stuff, if you want," Connor offered. "Maybe we can find something, another way to open it up or something."

"Yeah, maybe," Angel said, sounding even less confident than Connor felt.

"But if we couldn't go through without the charm, how could Connor and I have gone there before?" Dawn wondered aloud.

Angel shrugged. "I guess if someone was standing on the other side waiting for you, they'd get you."

"Why does shit like this always happen to us?" Connor muttered.

"Language, Connor, geez," Angel admonished. "We don't want to send Dawn back to Buffy swearing like a sailor."

"Well," Connor huffed. "It does. And she's way worse than I am, anyway."

"Bullshit," Dawn denied.

Angel laughed, but quickly rearranged his face into a frown.

"Dawn," he warned, but the reprimand lacked heat. "I mean it. Cut it out. Or I'll tell Spike."

"Please, like he's any better," Dawn said, smirking, but her face turned three shades of red anyway.

"Yeah," Angel admitted. "He is always 'bloody' this and 'bugger' that and 'bollocks' the other, isn't he?"

"How come Spike never lost his accent?" Connor asked, pushing open the door of the hotel and plopping down on his dad's round couch in the lobby. It really was the first time he'd thought about it. "I mean, you're Irish, right? But you can't tell. And haven't you guys been here close to the same amount of time?"

"I don't know," Angel said, dropping down next to him. "I guess I tried harder to fit in than he did. He's never bothered trying at all."

"Get a clue," Dawn said, rolling her eyes as she sat next to Connor. "The ladies love the accent. That's the only reason."

"Oh," Angel and Connor said together.

"I guess I'll go lie down," Dawn said.

"Good night," Angel answered.

"Night," Connor added.

After she had gone, Connor and Angel sat in semi-awkward silence for a few minute before Angel draped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close.

"I love you," he said.

"I know," Connor answered. "I'm sorry I yelled obscenities at you in the alley. Am I gonna get a whuppin' for it?" He'd tried to keep the words jovial, but his face flushed anyway.

"Do you think you should?"

"I hate when you say things like that," Connor murmured.

"I only do it to make you squirm," Angel admitted. "No, I'm not gonna 'whup' you for it, pal. I was being stupid. Sometimes I need someone to tell me that. Someone besides Spike."

"Thanks, Dad," Connor said, leaning his head onto Angel's shoulder. "He'll be back soon. Don't worry."

"Yeah," Angel said. "I kinda wanted to be the one to go, though. Buffy's never exactly been a damsel in distress or anything, but … I just wanted to be the one to go."

"I know," Connor said. "Just … Try not to think about it too much. What happens happens."

"How did you get so wise?" Angel asked, smiling. "Did you get that from your old man?"

"Nah," Connor answered boldly. "Obviously not."

"Watch it," Angel said mildly, ruffling his hair. "I can still give you that spanking, little boy."

"You wouldn't," Connor said, grinning. "Besides, you totally owe me a free pass after the last time."

"Is that so?" Angel asked.

"Yeah!" Connor said, nodding emphatically. "A couple of them, maybe."

"We'll see," Angel replied.

Connor sighed and heaved himself off the couch.

"I guess I need to go home," he said reluctantly, realizing that neither of them had any intention of doing more research, but not really wanting to leave his dad, either. "You'll call me if you hear anything?"

"Yeah, pal, of course."

"And you promise you won't go back there in the daylight?" Connor pressed. "I'll go first thing at daybreak, okay? If they're not already back, I mean."

"I promise," Angel said.

"Okay," Connor said, as satisfied as he was going to get. "G'night, Dad."

"Good night, son," Angel returned.


	20. Chapter 20

_Someone wrote bad language, angst, and spankings into this chapter. I don't know who it was, but if I find out, they will be severely punished. In the meantime, don't read this if that offends you._

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Connor swung by the portal—just in case—but nothing was stirring there. He sat down and stared at the spot, racking his brain for anything at all from his time in Quor-toth that might help him now, but nothing came. He almost wished he had Father … Holtz … Well, there was no almost about it. He _did_ wish he had Holtz at that moment, and then he felt guilty and awful for wishing it and vowed that he'd never let something like that slip out in front of Angel.

Spike needed to get back soon, and for a number of reasons. One, Connor needed to scream at him for jumping through a hole like an idiot. Two, Dawn needed Buffy back. Three, Connor needed him to break up with a Slayer's little sister for him...

What a mess. He felt like this one day had been three days long. He went home and set his clock for ridiculously early so that he could check for Spike. The damn thing buzzed long before he was ready, and Connor threw on some clothes and headed over to the alley since he hadn't heard from Angel.

Nothing was there. No sign of Spike or Buffy, and no sign that the portal planned to sporadically reopen any time soon. He'd already decided to skip school that day—hey, this was an _emergency—_so he made his way to the Hyperion to report to Angel.

Connor shoved the door open without giving it any thought, only to be rebuked by Angel when a little too much sunlight streamed into the room.

"Connor!" Angel nearly shrieked, ducking quickly down beneath the desk. "Shut the door! Shut the door!"

"Oh!" Connor said, taken aback. He hurriedly pulled it closed. "Sorry! I forgot!"

"You _forgot_?" Angel asked incredulously, still crouching behind his desk. "You _forgot_ that your father might _catch on fire_?"

"I said sorry!" Connor said defensively. "It's gone now. Sheesh. I didn't do it on purpose, Angel!"

Angel stood slowly—and Connor thought, suspiciously—and dusted off the front of his shirt.

"No sign of them?" Connor asked.

"Clearly not," Angel replied tersely, staring into some old book.

"God," Connor muttered. "You don't have to be so cranky."

Angel didn't comment, but he raised his eyebrows and gazed at him for several intense seconds. Connor really didn't want to already be in trouble before seven in the morning, so he quickly schooled his features into as contrite a look as he could manage and mumbled yet another apology. Sometimes he felt like all they ever did was apologize to each other.

Angel sighed and returned to studying his book. Connor stood there awkwardly.

"So," he finally said. "I-I guess I'll grab some snacks and stuff and just head over there to watch."

"School," Angel replied without looking up.

"Yeah," Connor said, shifting uneasily. "I was thinking that I would do this instead. Just today, you know. Kind of special circumstances."

"School," Angel repeated annoyingly.

"Angel!" he whined—er, exclaimed maturely. "It won't hurt me to miss one lousy day. I don't even have the important classes today."

"They're all important," Angel insisted. "You want to be somebody someday."

"This is more important!" Connor snapped. "Can't you see that? I know you don't like it, but Spike's my friend!"

"He's my friend, too!" Angel said sharply. "Now hush and go to school before you wake up Dawn."

"Too late," Dawn said sleepily as she made her way down the staircase.

"Hey," Connor greeted.

"Go back to bed," Angel said.

"Not tired," she said.

"I didn't ask if you were," Angel snapped, and she winced slightly.

"Okay," she mumbled, turning and immediately heading back toward her room.

"What'd you do that for?" Connor asked, frowning. "She wasn't doing anything wrong. Geez."

"You told me not to spank you in front of any more girls," Angel answered easily, still staring at his book.

"I—I what?" Connor asked, unconsciously taking a step back. "Am I in trouble?"

"Not yet," Angel replied. "But you're edging real close to it."

There was really nothing to say to that, so he kept his mouth shut and stalked to the cupboard where he knew Angel kept the Pop Tarts and took the whole box. He checked the little fridge in the corner, hoping for some soft drinks, but all he saw was blood. He leaned further in to check, but found nothing. As he raised up and turned away, he ran right into Angel, who stood glaring at him with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Oh!" he said, startled. "I um... I was just gonna go now. Keep watch."

"I told you to go to school," Angel said firmly.

"And I told _you_ I'm not going today," Connor replied with more bravado than he felt.

Angel reached around him and whacked him once rather hard squarely across the seat of his pants, but Connor resisted the urge to bolt and stood his ground.

"Are you done?" he asked, glaring.

"For now," Angel said ominously. "We're going to have a talk later."

"Cool," Connor said nonchalantly despite feeling the heat in his face. "See you later, then."

With all the dignity he could muster, he reclaimed the box of Pop Tarts from the floor—he'd dropped them when he'd run into Angel—and made his way to the door. It was incredibly tempting to throw the door open and storm out, but the morning sun was still very bright, and he didn't really want his dad to catch on fire, so he crept out and closed the door quietly, comforting himself with the thought that he could slam a door in Angel's face some other time.

God, was Angel being moody! Connor hoped that Dawn had the good sense to stay out of his way for the rest of the day, but she probably didn't. Without Spike there to defer to, Connor had no doubt that Angel would punish her if she annoyed him enough, and he wouldn't go easy on her, either. Should he send her a text message and advise her to avoid him? Or would that just piss her off? It would certainly piss Angel off if he found out about it, and that was something that Connor did not need.

Twenty minutes into his stakeout, Connor was already bored. He wished he'd brought a book or a video game to keep him occupied, but he'd been too tired to think straight before he'd left his apartment. The only thing he had was a blanket, in case Spike did happen through and got unfortunately propelled into a swatch of sunlight, and his box of Pop Tarts. He probably looked like a homeless person. He considered making the trip home and back, but it'd be his luck that something—either a good something or a bad one—would happen in the meantime, and then Angel would be all over him about responsibility, even though he'd told him not to go in the first place. He sighed and settled down in the alley with his back to a wall, ignoring the occasional person who walked by and peered at him curiously.

Around noon, he called his dad to tell him that he was going to grab some lunch. Angel apologized to him for "being a jackass" earlier, and Connor told him there were no hard feelings—even though there were a couple. He picked up a cheapo crossword puzzle book while he got lunch, and he'd completely finished it as well as texted everyone he knew by the time he decided he had put in a full shift of Spike Watch. Feeling completely hopeless and ill-tempered, he called his dad again and told him he was going home.

"I didn't make any progress at all today," Angel told him on the phone. "I don't have a clue how to reopen the damn thing without that charm."

"Sorry," Connor offered. "I'm sure Spike's working on it right now."

"Spike's probably working on Buffy," Angel muttered, but Connor pretended he didn't hear it.

"Well, I'm sure they'll be back by tonight," Connor said. "But if they're not, I'll go back tomorrow."

"No, Connor. It didn't do any good. There's no sense in disrupting your life for this. And you are _not_ missing another day of class."

"It's fine, Dad," Connor said dismissively. "I can get the homework from someone. No big deal."

"It's a big deal to me," Angel argued.

"Okay, Dad, whatever," Connor sighed, just wanting to get off the phone.

"Did you just 'whatever' me?" Angel asked, his voice harsher than it needed to be for the transgression.

"Um," Connor said nervously. "I can't hear you, Angel. Going through a tunnel. Talk to you later!"

Angel was still scolding him as he snapped the phone shut, but Connor found that he couldn't worry about it too much since he wasn't within arm's reach.

Two more long, horrible days passed with no sign of Spike or Buffy. Angel and Dawn had been researching but hadn't come up with any new information, and the situation was starting to get tense. Angel was in the worst mood that Connor had ever seen—from anyone, ever—and Dawn's innocent suggestion that they call Willow or Giles had turned him downright nasty. Connor thought her idea had been a good one, but after seeing Angel give her a hard and undeserved smack on the bottom before banishing her to her room, he kept that opinion to himself. He stared hard and unseeing into his own book, hoping that Angel would just leave him alone.

"Connor," Angel said after a few minutes.

"Yeah?" he asked, groaning on the inside.

"I know this has been a stressful few days, and I know I haven't been very nice..."

"Okay," Connor said noncommittally, propping his head on his hand and continuing to study his book.

"I want you to know that I appreciate everything you've done to help," Angel continued.

"But?" Connor couldn't help asking. "There's a 'but,' isn't there?"

Angel sighed.

"But I think we should talk about … about if they don't come back."

"What!" Connor exclaimed angrily. "Of course they're going to come back. You're just getting anxious. It's fine."

"Connor, it isn't fine," Angel said sadly. "There's a real chance we may not be able to get them back."

"So, what, you just want to give up?" Connor asked, finding himself nearly blind with anger. "You just want to quit trying to figure out how to open it?"

"No, of course not," Angel said gently. "I just don't want this to interfere with your life any more than it has to. You've already missed two days of school because of this..."

"So fucking what!" Connor yelled, slamming the book shut and trying not to cough as a cloud of dust came for his face. "Are you really so self-involved that you can't see that this _does_ affect me? I'm not here for you! My best friend is gone, Angel! But who am I kidding? You're probably _glad _he's gone!"

"Calm down, son," Angel said softly, but Connor was already so worked up that it just pissed him off more.

"You were probably glad I was gone, too!" he added for good measure.

"What?" Angel asked, his brow furrowing. "Connor, don't. Just don't. You know that isn't true. You're just upset."

"Well, somebody needs to be! Is this how you acted when Father took me to Hell? 'Oh well, it's been three days. Better give up and move on!'"

"Stop it, Connor!" Angel said sternly. "Stop it right now. You don't know what you're talking about. It almost killed me when I lost you! I tried everything to get you back!"

"Yeah, right," Connor spat. "You think I'm gonna believe that, when you won't even let Dawn call Buffy's watcher?"

"We don't need to call yet," Angel said curtly. "That's all."

"But what if it'll help?" Connor argued shrilly. "You have so much pride that you won't make a phone call?"

"We're not calling, not yet," Angel repeated firmly.

"I can't believe you," Connor muttered. "It's a wonder I even lived. _Before_ I went to Quor-toth... I wish I had gone with Spike. Everyone would have been better off."

Connor could tell from the look on his father's face that Angel was starting to get good and mad, but he just couldn't seem to stop his mouth from running. His thoughts were going off in all directions, and all of the directions were bad. A strong despair that he hadn't felt in a long time—well, weeks, at least—settled over him.

"You don't wish that," Angel said.

"Yes, I do," Connor insisted petulantly. "If he's in a hell dimension, I deserve to be there with him. It doesn't matter what you say; I know it's true."

"Connor, what?" Angel asked, shaking his head. "Where on earth is this coming from? You don't deserve to be in a hell dimension! I thought... I thought you felt better? I thought you realized that nothing that happened … before … was your fault?"

"You can say that all you want, but it doesn't make it true," Connor said dully. "I don't feel anything. Everything sucks. I suck. I shouldn't even be here. I'm worthless. I never should have left Quor-toth."

"I need you to calm down," Angel ordered.

"I need you to leave me the fuck alone," Connor replied, his expression vacant.

"You're about three words away from a sound whipping, young man," Angel warned, and the words sounded so strange coming from his mouth that Connor wondered if maybe he'd channeled his own father to issue the threat.

"I don't care," Connor said sullenly.

"Those would be the three," Angel said.

"Go ahead. It won't matter. It won't change anything. Everything still sucks."

"It'll change your attitude, and right now, that's good enough," Angel said, his voice low.

"It won't," Connor insisted. "I don't care if you hit me."

The blush that crept into his cheeks said otherwise, however, and he dropped his gaze to stare at the floor.

"You don't care?" Angel asked, his voice neutral.

"No," Connor replied, hastily removing his own belt and offering it to his father defiantly. He turned his back to him. "Go ahead."

"No," Angel answered simply, making Connor peer at him uncertainly from the corner of his eye.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Not like this," Angel clarified.

"I won't go over your knee," Connor said, swallowing hard. "You can't make me."

"Oh, I could make you," Angel said lightly. "But I won't. I am going to make you go outside and cut me a switch, though."

"What?" Connor asked, alarmed but trying not to show it.

"Yes," Angel stated, draping Connor's belt over the back of the couch. "Obviously a strapping doesn't strike enough fear into your heart anymore. I think it's time to try something else."

Connor turned around slowly, unsure what to do. He'd never gotten a switching, but he had a good enough idea of what it entailed to know he didn't want one. He could refuse. He could just leave. Angel would make good on it, though, at some point.

"Fine," he said, swallowing hard again and making his face as blank as he could. "See if I care."

"You'll care soon enough," Angel promised, taking him by the hand like a small child and marching him out the door to the back garden.

Connor had no idea how to pick a proper switch, but he was pretty sure Angel was about to give him a crash course. Sure enough, his dad led him without hesitation to a low, green bush, and pointed at it with his free hand.

"Get a branch. Not too thick, but not too thin," he instructed calmly.

Connor met his gaze briefly, trying to decide if this was all some sort of bizarre bluff, but it didn't appear to be. He studied the bush momentarily before pulling his hand out of Angel's and hesitantly reaching down for a branch at random.

"No," Angel said. "That one's too short. Longer one."

"Oh... Okay," Connor said, feeling his heartbeat pick up and hoping that Angel couldn't hear it.

He studied more carefully and found himself actually trying to find a branch that met Angel's qualifications, and eventually reached toward one that seemed to be good enough.

"This one?" he asked in a small voice.

"That'll do," Angel said, nodding. "Break it off."

Connor noticed that the branch was very green and flexible, but he managed to snap it off easily enough. He handed it to his dad uncertainly, and Angel regarded him for a moment, seemingly trying to make a decision about something. Maybe he thought Connor was bluffing, too. He finally took the offering, though, and pulled a knife out of his pants pocket. He quickly opened it and ran it swiftly along the edge of the switch, effectively stripping it of all the leaves. He turned to his side and swished it through the air twice, and to his horror, Connor flinched both times.

"Yeah, that'll do," Angel repeated, taking Connor by the arm again and pulling him back into the hotel.

Determined not to let this get to him, Connor immediately returned to where they'd been before and turned around, crossing his arms over his chest.

"No, pal," Angel said gently. "Pants down."

"Why?" Connor asked, momentarily okay with the fact that it came out in a whine.

"Because I want you to feel this," Angel said in blunt honesty. "I want you to see how serious I am. No one talks like that about my little boy and gets away with it. Not even the boy himself."

"Dad," Connor groaned, making no move to pull his jeans down.

"If I have to ask you again..." Angel said, trailing off.

Connor straightened and, not looking at his father, slipped his jeans down just below his butt before bending over and placing his shaking hands on his knees. Today did have to be the day he'd worn his Oscar the Grouch boxer shorts. If Angel wondered why his adult son was wearing cartoon underwear, he didn't comment.

Connor heard movement behind him and tensed up in anticipation of the first—what? Whack? Lick? He didn't know how it would land, but he was ready for it. What he wasn't ready for was the way Angel reached out and in one swift motion pushed his jeans all the way down to his ankles.

A soft sound of protest escaped his lips, but he didn't stand. Did this mean Angel intended to whip him all down his legs? That thought made him nervous, but he clenched his teeth together hard and took a deep breath to again steel himself for the first blow.

"Shorts down, too, Connor," Angel instructed.

"No," Connor said, finding it to be more of a plea than a refusal.

"Don't be shy," Angel said. "I've seen your backside before."

When Connor didn't immediately comply, Angel pulled the switch back and whipped it smartly across the middle of both his thighs. Connor shot up immediately and turned to face his father, rubbing furiously at the vicious sting.

"Feel that?" Angel asked mildly.

Connor's only response was a scowl.

"Back down, little man," Angel said, pointing with the switch at the floor. "I promised you a sound whipping, and you haven't gotten it yet."

"I-I don't need a sound one," Connor said, standing rooted to the spot and unable to control the pronounced pout on his lips. "That's enough. I get it. You made your point."

"Oh, but I insist. And you don't care whether I do it or not, remember?" Angel asked coolly. "So I think I'll see it done, since it's all the same to you. Now turn yourself around and bend over."

"No, Dad. Maybe I do care a little," Connor protested. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean all that crap I said."

"All right, Connor," Angel said, sighing, and Connor thought for a brief moment that his backpedaling had successfully earned him a reprieve.

Instead, Angel reached out and gripped him by the ear, leading him to the couch. Connor struggled, not only against his father's grasp, but against the jeans that were around his ankles.

"No," Connor murmured as Angel easily trapped him between his knees and slipped his boxers down. He pushed Connor gently down over his leg and immediately lashed the switch across the center of his naked bottom.

"Ouch!" Connor said, sucking in a gasping breath as another and another lick fell. "Ouch! Ouch! God, that... That hurts!"

"You sound surprised," Angel commented, and Connor could hear the amusement in his voice, and it kinda made him mad.

"It hurts!" he repeated, still rather shocked by the amount of sting and squirming in an attempt to get free. "Dad, it hurts!"

"You wanted hurt, remember," Angel said. "You wanted to feel something. I'm just giving you what you wanted."

"I didn't want this!" Connor protested, throwing his hands back.

"Move the hands," Angel ordered, stopping. "I want to whip your behind, not your hands."

"No, leave my behind alone," Connor said petulantly. "I'm sorry! I said I was sorry."

"Sorry isn't quite good enough for this," Angel commented, gathering Connor's wrists in his free hand and pushing them out of the way. "You made several disparaging remarks about a member of my family, and well, I can't just let that go."

"You can!" Connor argued, jumping as the switch made contact again. "You can let it go! I take it back, all of it."

Angel shifted and pulled Connor's torso further across his knee. Connor whimpered involuntarily as he realized that this was quite likely so that he could get to more of his backside. He hissed as Angel switched him enthusiastically across the thighs. He could tell that his father wasn't doing it very hard, but he was doing it fast, and the licks were overlapping mercilessly. It stung worse than anything Connor had ever felt, and he kicked frantically.

"Be still," Angel said, not letting up.

"It hurts!" Connor replied indignantly. "It really hurts!"

"Yeah?" Angel said coldly, momentarily stopping the punishment and leaning down close to Connor's ear. "Well, maybe _I don't care_."

Connor's resolve broke, and he dissolved into sorrowful tears, lying there limply as Angel resumed the punishing _thwick thwick thwick _of the switch.

"How dare you talk like that," he heard Angel mutter as the flicks of the switch became fewer and farther between. "Wishing you'd gone with Spike! No one is ever taking my little boy away from me again. Should wash your mouth out with soap... Put you across my knee every day for a week..."

"No," Connor moaned, even though he knew it was an empty threat.

"You need it," Angel murmured, smacking his bottom once lightly with his hand. "The switch is all worn out. Should make you go get another."

Connor wasn't at all sure about the emptiness of that threat, so he kept his head down and his mouth shut so as not to say anything to make it a reality.

Angel reached down and replaced Connor's boxer shorts for him, but seemed reluctant to let him up. He gave him several resounding smacks of his hand right on his underwear. Besides somehow being a worse blow to his dignity than the bare-bottomed switching, the smacks hurt a lot more across his already striped bottom than they normally would have. Angel fell into a hard, steady rhythm and kept it up so long that Connor wondered if maybe he'd forgotten he'd just punished him.

"Okay!" he wailed, writhing around in utter agony and frustrated that Angel insisted on holding him still by force. "Okay, Dad! Okay! Dad! Ow, Dad, stop!"

Just as Connor thought that the awful burning sensation would never end and that he would surely die from it, his dad stopped.

"Get up and pull your pants up," Angel said, his voice crisper than it normally was after these kinds of things.

"Yes, sir," Connor murmured, embarrassed by both the command and how he'd acted.

He scrambled unsteadily to his feet and stood next to Angel, who remained seated, and quickly did up his pants. He glanced at his father apprehensively, wondering if the spanking was about to continue over his jeans.

"You will never say those things about yourself again, Connor," Angel said sternly.

Connor rubbed his bottom sadly and stared at the floor, unable to answer.

"Get your hands off your butt," Angel ordered. "You deserve to feel it for awhile."

"It stings a lot," Connor mumbled, blushing and awkwardly clasping his hands in front of him so he wouldn't be tempted to reach back.

"I know," Angel said.

"How?" Connor asked abruptly. "It wasn't your ass that just got beat."

"I wouldn't do something to you if I didn't know how it felt," Angel said gently.

"Really?" Connor asked, surprised and a little put out. "So you knew how bad that would hurt and you did it anyway?"

"Take that tone with me some more, Connor," Angel invited, meeting his eyes.

"Sorry," Connor said immediately. "I'm just … I don't know. It's been a bad couple of days."

He sobbed again unexpectedly, and Angel immediately stood and wrapped him in his arms. Connor relaxed in the embrace and half laughed, half cried.

"I cried all over your shirt," he observed when he finally pulled away.

"It happens," Angel said easily, running his hand through Connor's hair.

"What'd you get the switch for?" Connor asked, not really believing that Angel would tell him, but curious anyway.

"Just about everything," Angel answered, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

"You couldn't have been that bad," Connor said, reaching back and rubbing his bottom.

"Things were different then," Angel said, pulling Connor's hand away from his bottom without commenting on it. "I got it for talking back to my father, mostly. I did that a lot."

"You gonna do it to me every time I talk back?" Connor asked.

"Don't talk back and you won't have to worry about it," Angel responded.

"I am your kid, though, so..." Connor said cheekily.

"I won't, Connor," Angel said, ignoring Connor's attempt at humor in that annoying way he sometimes did. "You just … You scared me today, pal."

"Sorry," he answered. "I scared myself a little, too."

"I shouldn't have said what I said," Angel offered. "Of course we'll get them back."

"Yeah," Connor said after he blew his nose. "I... It was really stupid, all that stuff I said. I know you tried to get me out of Quor-toth."

"No worries, Connor," Angel said dismissively, and Connor marveled at how quickly a spanking could clear the air between them. "Emotions were running high. Speaking of which, I should probably apologize to Dawn and beg her forgiveness..."

"Yeah," Connor said absently, determining that since the subject had been changed, it was okay to rub the sting out of his backside.

Angel raised his eyebrows.

"What?" Connor asked guiltily.

"Give me your hands," Angel said, not unkindly.

Connor grudgingly but obediently held out his hands to Angel, who smacked each one sharply.

"Ow!" he said, even though it hadn't really hurt.

"I told you that you get to feel it for awhile," Angel said. "Keep it up and I'll put you face down over my knee where I can watch you all day."

"You're so mean!" Connor said, but he smiled in spite of himself.

"Yeah," Angel agreed, smirking. "I don't think Cookie Monster is going to be sassing me anytime soon..."

Connor felt so much blood rush to his face that he wondered how it was that his ass kept throbbing.

"Cookie Monster is blue, Dad. That's—"

He was unexpectedly interrupted by a commotion at the front doors. He followed Angel's gaze to a suitcase-laden Gunn, who exclaimed cheerily as he struggled to get through the entrance,

"Honey, we're home!"


	21. Chapter 21

"Uh oh," Gunn said as he dropped the suitcases and laid eyes on the two of them. "Why the long faces? Aren't you happy to see me?"

"Of course we are," Angel answered.

"Yeah," Connor agreed. "Welcome back. Where's Illyria?"

"I am present," came Illyria's cold voice from the doorway.

As she stepped through, Connor saw that she had reverted to Fred's form. He would never get used to that. He suspected none of them would.

"Change back," Angel said tersely, confirming his suspicion.

"As you wish," Illyria said, immediately transforming to her "normal" appearance of skin tight body suit and partially blue hair. Connor knew he should feel wrong and dirty for lusting after her, but he didn't.

"Did you have a good trip?" Angel asked.

"The younger one has just been reprimanded by the vampire," Illyria commented to Gunn as she peered intently at Connor. "That is the reason for their morose expressions."

"Huh?" Gunn said as his gaze fell on Connor's tear-stained and red face. "You guys been into it?"

"No," Illyria said. "I believe the boy has just received a physical punishment. What your kind might call 'tough love.'"

"'My kind?'" Gunn asked defensively. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, God," Connor grumbled. "I think this is my cue to leave."

"Illyria," Angel admonished, smiling at the appalled look on Connor's face. "That's... I mean, that's not something you should just announce like that. It's sort of private."

"You mean it's true?" Gunn asked, way too interested. "Con Man got a whuppin'?"

"Don't call me that," Connor said irritably. "And you could at least _try_ to keep the approval out of your voice."

"Hey, don't be embarrassed, man," Gunn said, grinning good-naturedly. "You know your daddy should have busted your sorry butt a long time ago."

"He has done it before," Illyria supplied helpfully, and Connor felt his face turn even redder.

"Oh?" Gunn said, already losing interest in the subject and rifling through a duffel bag. Thank God. "Well. Good, then, I guess."

"Charles tells me that it is customary when one journeys afar to bring gifts to those who remained behind," Illyria announced, looking around the room curiously. "Where is my pet?"

Connor took the opportunity to surreptitiously kick the discarded switch up under the couch. It was bad enough that his belt was still draped across it for everyone to see. At least that was sort of a manly punishment. Let them think that's what he'd gotten. The last thing he wanted was Illyria announcing to the entire room that Angel had patted him with a twig.

"Uh, well," Angel said uncomfortably. "Spike isn't here right now. It's sort of a long story."

"Let's hear it," Gunn invited, pulling a t-shirt out of his bag and flinging it at Connor.

Connor held it up to get a look at it. _My friend went to Dallas and all I got was this lousy t-shirt. _Classy.

"Thanks," he said.

Angel managed a bare-bones explanation of where Spike had gone. By the time he'd finished, Gunn had a mix of shock and worry on his face, but Illyria just looked mad.

"You lost my pet?" she demanded. "I entrusted you with his care for a mere week and you lost him?"

"I didn't _lose_ him," Angel denied. "I'm not his keeper. And he's not your pet!"

"Charles and I have been working on feelings. I feel disgust toward you," Illyria said bluntly. "Take me to this portal so that I may retrieve him."

"It's not as simple as that!" Angel snapped. "We have no idea where he is. We've tried everything to get it open."

"Take me there. I will open it," she insisted.

"Can you do that?" Gunn asked, clearly impressed by her audacity alone.

"Certainly," Illyria replied haughtily.

"I'll go get Dawn!" Connor said excitedly, racing up the staircase and only wincing slightly at the prominent discomfort in his backside.

Connor collected a sulking Dawn from her room. She quickly cheered up at the news that Illyria could possibly get Buffy and Spike back, and soon all of them rushed down the street.

"Here," Illyria said, stopping without having been told. "I feel the energy here."

"Yeah, this is about right," Angel acknowledged.

"It is precisely correct," Illyria said disdainfully. "Not 'about right.' Now remove yourselves from my path so that I may work."

"What's her deal?" Dawn murmured to Connor as they all took a step back.

"Ex-goddess … uh … demony thingy," Connor explained eloquently.

"Ah," Dawn said, nodding her understanding. "Gotcha."

Illyria said some words in some ancient language, and they all watched with fascination and disbelief when the portal appeared as suddenly as it had vanished, complete with its ridiculous pop. With no hesitation whatsoever, Illyria ducked her entire upper body inside and promptly lifted out a struggling Spike by the collar of his coat.

"Get Buffy, Blue!" he instructed animatedly as he flailed his arms and motioned for Illyria to put him down. "Get Buffy and then close the damn thing!"

"What is a Buffy?" Illyria asked with distaste as she set him on his feet.

"The girl! The blond one!" Spike panted.

"Why should I bring her here?" Illyria asked. "I have no interest in her. I already have a pet."

"For God's sake, Blue, just grab her! I'll... I'll let you beat me up later!"

"Very well," Illyria said in a way that was both long-suffering and eager.

She reached back into the portal, and after a moment of rummaging around that reminded Connor of Dawn and her purse, pulled a super hot lady out of there by her hair.

"Ow!" she protested as Illyria deposited her heavily onto the ground.

"You are welcome," Illyria said, murmuring another incantation and closing off the portal.

"Buffy!" Angel and Dawn exclaimed, both running to her.

"Whoa!" Buffy said, laughing as she tried to get to her feet with them hanging off her. "Let a girl get off the ground, guys!"

"Buffy, thank God you're okay!" Dawn exclaimed, hugging her tightly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Dawnie, I'm fine!" Buffy said, smiling with relief. "So glad to be out of that nightmare! Been there for hours! I thought you'd never come!"

"Hours?" Angel asked. "Buffy, you've been there for days. Well, days here, at least."

"News flash, you dunce," Spike said, rolling his eyes. "Time moves differently in other dimensions."

"I _know_ that, Spike," Angel hissed. "It's just … it normally works the other way around."

"Living proof," Connor agreed, pointing at himself with both thumbs.

"Oh," Angel said, suddenly awkward. "Buffy... This is... Well, I know this is gonna be a shock... But this is my... My son..." Angel stammered.

"Connor," Buffy said, smiling warmly. "I know. We met."

"We did?" Connor asked, totally confused. He thought he'd remember meeting someone who looked like that... Er, well, because she was Dawn's sister and all. "Huh?"

"You don't remember, do you?" Buffy asked, shaking her head. "Figures."

"No, sorry," Connor said. He thought hard and tried to come up with how these things normally worked. "Were you like... that old lady in the magic shop or something?"

"Ew, gross," Buffy said, wrinkling her nose. "Cliche much? No more junior mystery novels for you."

"Oh," Connor said, blushing.

"Remember?" Buffy prompted. "You and Dawn came through the portal? Five or six hours ago now... You said you'd get that charm to Angel and get me out of there pronto... No?"

"Buffy, what are you talking about?" Dawn asked, bemused. "We didn't do any of that."

Buffy shook her head and rolled her eyes impatiently.

"You know what? It doesn't matter," she said, smiling. "You must have gotten hit with a triple whammy of memory loss mojo or something."

"Ugh," Spike said with disgust. "You're spending _way_ too much time with Xander Harris if you're talking like that."

"He misses you, too, Spike," Buffy teased, smiling devilishly. "The important thing is you all got me out. Thank you."

"No, pet," Spike said immediately. "It was me. I'm the one that got you out."

"What!" Angel exclaimed furiously, after which he lost all ability to form complete sentences. "You—I—We—"

"Uh, hello, _I _got the charm, remember?" Dawn said, not wanting to be left out if credit was being given and praise being handed out. "And I got in a lot of trouble for it, too!"

"Trouble?" Buffy asked.

"Well," Dawn said, blushing and casting furtive glances at both vampires present. "I mean … I went through a lot of trouble to get it is all."

"I have tired of this exchange," Illyria announced, bored. "I wish to return to our domicile."

"Oh, hello," Buffy said. "I guess you guys have your own Anya."

Spike chuckled, but no one else got it or seemed to care.

"Let's go back to the hotel," Angel said. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving!" Spike said enthusiastically.

"Not you," Angel snapped.

"I'm fine, Angel," Buffy said, smiling at him in a way that Spike didn't much seem to like. "It would be nice to sit down for a while, though, if you'll have me."

"Of course I'll... we'll have you!" Angel said, putting his arm around her shoulders and turning toward the hotel.

"Get off, you git," Spike said, swatting Angel's arm away from Buffy. "I rescued her. I get to walk her home."

Angel glared, shoved Spike backwards slightly, and opened his mouth to speak—or more likely, to yell, but Buffy cut him off.

"Guys," she said, sighing but not seeming too perturbed by it. "You can both walk me home."

In a gesture that didn't seem to satisfy either vampire—but the Slayer sure looked like she was enjoying herself—Buffy linked arms with each of them on either side of her and they all made their way back to the Hyperion.


	22. Chapter 22

"So that's why I wanted the Oxley Charm," Buffy explained, sipping the water that Spike had brought her. She'd said a whole lot of other stuff, too, but Connor was having a hard enough time just concentrating on remembering not to stare at her legs.

"I knew it had to do with me," Dawn said glumly. "That's why you didn't tell me about it."

"Love," Spike began hesitantly. "I'm not trying to criticize or anything here, but wouldn't it have been safer for Dawn if you'd just left her at home?"

Buffy looked shocked.

"Dawn, what did you tell them?" she demanded, and Dawn smiled guiltily.

"Nothing," she mumbled.

"I didn't bring her with me!" Buffy said defensively. "The little brat stowed away in the trunk of my car! I didn't find her until we were past the point of no return!"

"Dawn!" Angel and Spike scolded in unison.

"Dawnie, you did call Giles like I asked, right?" Buffy asked suddenly.

"Well, no, since I don't remember you asking me that, or actually remember _being_ there," Dawn said defensively.

"Oh no!" Buffy exclaimed, jumping to her feet and pulling her phone out of her pocket. "He's gonna kill me!"

She stepped out the front door to make her phone call, and Connor took the opportunity to pull Spike into the kitchen for a private conversation.

"Glad you're back," he said quickly.

"Me too, mate," Spike answered. "Now what is it that you want from me?"

"What?" Connor asked, blushing. "Who said I wanted anything?"

Spike just raised his eyebrows, so Connor cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Look," Connor said. "It's just... Dawn's probably gonna be going home soon, and..."

"And you don't know how to broach the topic of 'let's see other people?'" Spike guessed.

"Well. Well, yeah," Connor said, embarrassed. "I mean, I like her, but... but I mean, I don't want her to be waiting on me or anything."

"What you really mean is that you don't want to have to wait for her," Spike said seriously.

"You make me sound awful," Connor said, staring at the floor.

"Listen, mate, I'm not judging you," Spike said. "And if you want to use me as the bad guy, go for it. Tell her I threatened to break both your arms if you didn't call it off with her."

"Um... _Are_ you threatening to break both my arms?" Connor asked uncertainly.

"Buffy's back!" Spike said, dismissing him and hurrying back to the lobby.

Connor followed him out and was met by Dawn, who for some reason smiled shyly at him.

"Can... Can we go upstairs and talk?" she asked.

"Sure, I guess," he said nervously. He glanced at the room full of "adults" who were so caught up in their own conversations that they probably wouldn't miss them for a few minutes.

"Cool," Dawn said, leading the way to her room.

"Can't believe we don't remember running into Buffy that night," Connor said once he'd closed the bedroom door and joined Dawn on the bed. "That would have saved us both a lot of aggravation."

"Yeah," Dawn agreed. "Sorry you got in trouble."

"Hey, that was ages ago now," Connor said, waving it off.

"No," Dawn said timidly. "I... I meant earlier tonight."

"Oh," Connor said, blushing. "Yeah. That. You... You heard all that, I guess."

"The walls are kinda thin," Dawn said apologetically.

"Hey. What can ya do?" Connor said lamely.

"Does it still hurt?" she asked.

"No," he lied.

Judging from the smirk on her face, he didn't think he'd fooled her.

"You sure?" she prompted. "I mean, I have some lotion if you want it."

"Men don't wear lotion," Connor said.

"Oh?" Dawn asked. "But men do watch _Sesame Street_? And get put over their dads' knees?"

"Did you spy on me?" Connor asked incredulously, unsure if he was mad or not.

"Maybe a little," she admitted. "But I was worried."

"Angel wouldn't hurt me, not really," Connor assured her. "He was just giving me 'what I wanted.'"

"Yes, Angel is nothing if not benevolent," Dawn agreed, rolling her eyes. "Well, you were doing a whole lot of yelling... So I kinda sorta peeked down the stairs a little. Are you mad?"

"Nah. And I'm fine now," Connor said. "Thanks, though."

"Well," Dawn said, prowling through her purse and producing a small bottle of lotion. "I could... you know, help."

"Help?" Connor asked cluelessly.

"Put the lotion on," she said, blushing. "You know."

"Oh!" Connor said. "No! No, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" Dawn asked, nearing a pout.

"Well, I mean, I'm not ashamed of my body or anything. But me, half naked, alone in a room with you, and Spike and Buffy both downstairs?" he said. "Come on. You know that's not a good idea."

"It'll be fine," Dawn said dismissively, opening the bottle and squeezing a healthy amount of lotion into the palm of her hand. "Drop your pants."

"No way!" Connor said, finding himself embarrassed even though he'd just told her he wasn't.

"Come on," she ordered. "I promise I'll make it quick."

"You're... You're doing something," Connor accused. "I don't know what. Not manipulating me, exactly. But you're doing something!"

"I promise not to molest you," Dawn said, rolling her eyes and holding up her free hand in the Scout's Honor position.

Against every single bit of good judgment and common sense that he had, Connor went over and locked the bedroom door before making his way back to Dawn. He turned his back on her and quickly dropped his pants and boxers just below his bottom, hoping that would satisfy her curiosity.

"Ouch," Dawn said. "You're really marked up."

"Really?" he asked, craning his neck around so he could see.

"Yeah," she commented as she heartlessly slathered the ice cold lotion onto his ass with no warning about its temperature. "You better stop pushing Angel so far. Geez. Do you have a death wish?"

"Not currently," Connor murmured, but she didn't reply.

"There!" she said when she had finished, patting his bottom gratuitously. "All done. See, was that so bad?"

"I guess not," Connor conceded, quickly replacing his clothing and unlocking the door in case a vampire or a vampire Slayer happened along.

"Connor..." Dawn said, just as Connor began with, "Dawn..."

They both laughed, and Connor had a strong suspicion their thoughts were headed in the same direction, but he certainly wasn't going to say the words if he could get her to do it.

"Yeah?" he prompted, sitting next to her.

"I really like you," she said.

"But?" Connor asked.

"But," Dawn said, laughing. "I don't... I don't expect anything from you, you know?"

"Oh?" he said mildly.

"I mean," she said. "I know you probably have a ton of girls after you all the time."

"Not exactly," Connor said, flattered. "But please, do go on."

"I know I'm just a kid," Dawn said. "And you're in college. And the truth is, my friend Xander would probably come try to find you and kick your ass if we started dating."

"Oh," Connor said. He'd heard tales of this Xander from Spike, but he kept his opinions to himself.

"So, like, maybe in the future, you know," Dawn said, trailing off.

"Yeah," Connor said, smiling though he didn't feel particularly happy.

"Well, I guess we'd better get back downstairs," Dawn said, throwing all her stuff into the suitcase she'd brought.

"What are you doing?" Connor asked.

"I know Buffy," Dawn said. "She's not going to stick around and make this any harder on Spike and Angel than it has to be. I'm sure we're leaving tonight."

"Oh," Connor said lamely.

As if on cue, Buffy called up the stairs telling Dawn to get her things. Dawn gave him a "told ya so" look and started for the door. She paused abruptly and turned around, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks," he said inadequately, and she smiled.

Dawn ran down the stairs and said her goodbyes to Spike and Angel, and to a lesser extent, Gunn and Illyria. Connor watched silently from the bottom of the stairs as the two ladies disappeared out the front doors. Then he walked over and stood next to his father.

"Whew," Gunn said. "I'm exhausted. How did y'all take a week of all this excitement?"

"It was fine," Angel said, seeming to have forgotten what a rough time they'd all had.

"Welp," Spike said, getting to his feet. "I'm going out for a drink! Who's with me?"

"Not me, man," Gunn said, shaking his head. "I gotta get some rest. We've been driving a long time."

"'We?'" Angel asked. "You let Illyria drive your truck?"

"I am skilled in all forms of mechanical manipulation," Illyria informed him arrogantly. "Spike, you cannot go. I have not bestowed upon you your gift."

"Oh," Spike said uncomfortably, clearly not having any idea what that might mean. "Well, you can give it to me later, okay, Blue? I promise."

"If you insist," Illyria agreed, heading for the stairs. "If my pet is leaving, I have no use for the rest of you, and shall retire."

"Yeah, good night to you, too," Gunn said sarcastically. He waited for her to disappear up the stairs and then followed, telling them quietly over his shoulder, "She's made progress on feelings, but we're still working on manners."

"Well, how about you, Fang and Fangless?" Spike asked, looking expectantly at Angel and Connor.

"Don't ever call me that again," Angel said seriously. "And besides, I don't think you should go out."

"Why not?" Spike asked, looking at the clock on the desk. "It's early yet. Sun won't be up for several hours. Let's go out and celebrate saving the girl! It'll be like old times! Except, you know, in old times we saved the girl for later..."

"I want to talk to you," Angel said quietly. "Alone."

"Oh... Okay," Spike said uneasily. "If it's about Buffy, you can rest easy. I didn't screw her. But only because there wasn't time."

Angel covered both Connor's ears with his hands as if he were a child watching a PG-13 movie.

"Dad!" Connor protested, laughing and pulling away. "I think I can handle it."

"I don't think I can," Angel murmured.

"Are you two coming out with me or not?" Spike asked. "It's what, Saturday night now? Connor and me haven't been out together in ages!"

"I guess I'll stay in," Angel said. "But find me when you get home. We're going to have a talk."

"Why, what'd I do?" Connor asked before he fully realized that Angel hadn't been talking to him. "Oh."

Spike smirked but didn't reply to either of them.

"Come on, then, Junior," he said, turning toward the door.

"I think I'll just go home," Connor said. "I'm tired."

"What?" Spike protested. "You're not tired. And even if you are, that's why you pour the whiskey into a caffeinated beverage."

"It's been a long day," Connor argued. "I just wanna go home."

"Nonsense!" Spike said, unexpectedly hoisting Connor straight up and over his shoulder.

"Spike!" Connor protested, laughing. "Put me down!"

"I'll put you down soon. On a bar stool," Spike promised, making his way to the door with Connor dangling upside down behind him.

"Be careful," Angel warned. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Bye, Dad," Connor called, waving.

"Yes, goodbye, Gramps!" Spike echoed.


	23. Chapter 23

"I can't believe I got dumped," Connor lamented for the third time into his third beer.

"This again? Really?" Spike demanded, throwing a straw wrapper at him from across the table. "Did you or did you not ask _me_ how to break up with _her_?"

"That's different," Connor said.

"Well, I think you should be happy about it," Spike advised. "This way, I don't have to break your arms. Saves me a lot of work."

"You weren't gonna break my arms," Connor said, rolling his eyes.

"You don't know that, young man," Spike said with mock sternness. "I am a demon, after all, and very mean."

"Yeah, you're terrifying," Connor said skeptically.

Spike smirked, but didn't press the issue.

"Anything good happen while I was gone?" he asked.

"Nothing good," Connor said honestly.

"Oh?" Spike asked, sounding rather pleased. "So you're saying life is worse without me, then?"

"Way worse," Connor agreed, nodding.

"We're gonna need some more shots over here!" Spike called happily to the bartender.

Connor laughed. Laughing got easier and easier the more alcohol he consumed. He liked alcohol. It was nice.

"I bet it drove your old man crazy, thinking about how I was alone with Buffy all that time," Spike said wistfully. "I wish I coulda seen it."

"No, trust me, you don't," Connor said, finishing his beer and handing the bottle to Spike for no other reason than that he was there. "He was … unpleasant."

"Yeah?" Spike asked. "That why you're squirming around so much?"

"I'm not squirming!" Connor denied. "Am I?"

"Little bit," Spike said, chuckling.

"Yeah, okay," Connor said, finding that his tongue was loose for some reason. "He beat my ass."

"I figured," Spike said matter-of-factly.

Connor leaned over the table closer to Spike and said quietly, "He made me get a switch. A _switch_, Spike! Who does that?"

"Old people," Spike answered simply, lighting a cigarette.

"And he _hit_ me with it!" Connor whispered urgently, since Spike didn't seem to understand the severity of the situation. "And it hurt! A lot!"

"Sorry," Spike offered, setting a shot of some brown liquor down in front of him.

"Don't be," Connor said. "I totally deserved it. I was having a major meltdown and he … he stopped it."

"Good," Spike said. "Cheers, then!"

Connor clinked his shot glass against Spike's and drank his down, nearly choking on the burning liquid.

"Yuck! This is awful!" he said, laughing.

"Yeah, well, when you're legal in a couple years, then maybe we can go to a place where they serve real alcohol. Right now, you gotta take what you can get."

"I'm not complaining," Connor said.

"Yes, you were," Spike said.

"I said it was awful," Connor argued. "I didn't say I didn't like it!"

"In that case, let's have another, shall we?" Spike asking, smiling.

"Yes, let's we shall to do that," Connor said, aware that his sentence made no sense.

"Your dad's gonna kill me," Spike commented lightly, but he laughed anyway.

"Nah," Connor said, snorting. "He just wants to 'talk' to you. Don't wear your belt home. He'll use it against you."

"He'll do no such thing!" Spike said.

"Yeah, right," Connor said. "You think I don't know his code words by now?"

"Keep your voice down. I don't want folks getting the wrong idea about me and your pop."

"Okay," Connor said.

"Okay, what?" Spike asked, amused.

"Um..." Connor said, confused. "Okay, I'll drink this shot!"

"'Atta boy!" Spike said with approval, and they toasted each other again.

Many drinks later, Connor was feeling good. Many, many drinks after that, he felt consib … conslid … consiberately worse. He felt bad.

"I think I need to go home," he moaned tiredly.

"Yeah, mate, you do," Spike said, grabbing his coat off the back of his chair. "Come on. Let's get a cab to the hotel and your dad can give you a lift home."

"No!" Connor said, his eyes wide. "Don't take me there! I don't want a spanking!"

"Hush, Connor," Spike said, laughing and tossing money on the table. "You're not gonna get in trouble. He knew what we came out to do."

"Just … cab to my apartment," Connor insisted. "Cab to there is fine. No Angel."

"I've changed my mind," Spike said, and Connor brightened. But only for a second. "We won't get a cab at all. You need to walk a little and sober up some. Come on. We'll have you in fine shape in no time."

"Noooo," Connor groaned, but allowed Spike to lift him to his feet. "You carried me here. Carry me back."

"No," Spike said simply.

"Why not?" Connor whined.

"Because," Spike said. "I'm a mean, scary demon, and I like to see you suffer."

"Worst!" Connor exclaimed, not entirely sure what he meant, but feeling that the word adequately conveyed his message.

"Yes, truly," Spike agreed, supporting him under his arms and dragging him out of the bar.

"You're my best friend, do you know that?" Connor said affectionately.

"Yeah, mate. Likewise," Spike said, and Connor accepted it whether he meant it or not.

Connor didn't know how, but they somehow walked back to the Hyperion without getting run over in the street. He really didn't want to go inside as inebriated as he was for fear that Angel would have his own ideas about how to sober him up. He dug his heels in outside the building, but Spike easily yanked him through the door.

"Angel," Spike called softly.

"Maybe he's gone," Connor whispered hopefully.

"I'm not gone," Angel answered from within his office.

"Oh no," Connor said to Spike. "He's here!"

"I can hear you, you know," Angel said as he emerged from his office.

"Is he mad?" Connor asked Spike out of the corner of his mouth while scrutinizing his father.

"Connor!" Angel admonished. "Again, right here."

"He's mad," Connor groaned. "I knew he'd be mad."

"I'm not mad," Angel said.

"Angel, Connor would like a ride home," Spike announced. "Do you think you can give him one without walloping him once you get him there?"

"We'll see," Angel said, grabbing his keys.

"That means no!" Connor said mournfully. "That always means no! I'm gonna get walloped!"

"Come on, pal," Angel said, laughing openly. "You're not gonna get walloped. Probably. Just don't throw up in my car."

"Hey, can I drive your car sometime?" Connor asked suddenly.

"Absolutely not," was Angel's immediate and expected reply as he ushered Connor out the door and into the vehicle.

Once they were on their way, Angel warned him again not to throw up in his car, and Connor rolled his eyes even though—or perhaps because—it was too dark for Angel to fully appreciate the gesture. He messed with the radio until Angel slapped his hand away from the dial, and when his dad parked illegally outside the apartment complex, Connor made sure to tell him that it wouldn't be his fault if he got towed. He couldn't tell for sure, but he thought Angel rolled his own eyes at that.

Angel insisted on accompanying him inside, and Connor cringed at the thought of his father seeing and judging the mess that he'd let the place fall into that week. Oh well.

He wanted nothing more than to go straight to bed, but Angel suggested he change clothes first because his "smelled like smoke." Connor knew perfectly well that they also "smelled like Spike," but he didn't mention it. He threw on some different clothes in the bathroom and met Angel back in the living room, where he sank down on the couch, deciding it'd be a perfectly acceptable spot to crash for the night.

"Don't you want to lie on your bed?" Angel asked, peering down at him.

"Hmm mm," Connor murmured in the negative, already closing his eyes.

"Come on, pal. I think your neck will hurt if you sleep on the couch," Angel coaxed.

"My whole body's gonna hurt anyway," Connor pointed out.

"Well deserved," Angel said.

"Be nice to me," Connor pouted. "I got dumped today."

"Come on," Angel said, scooping him up in his arms and carrying him to his bedroom.

"You should have come out with us, Dad," Connor murmured as Angel laid him gently on top of his blankets. "We had a good time."

"I don't think you'll be remembering it that way in the morning," Angel said.

"Yeah, I will," Connor insisted. "After a couple pots of coffee."

"Maybe I'll come see you tomorrow," Angel said, and Connor felt him tousling his hair. "Make sure you lived through the night."

"Thanks, Dad. I love you," Connor said easily, dozing off.

"I—"


	24. Chapter 24

A full three weeks went by during which Angel didn't give Connor so much as an admonishing look. In fact, he seemed to be going out of his way to please his son, and Connor had a sneaking suspicion it was all due to his drunken declaration of love. Neither of them had mentioned it, but Connor remembered saying it, and Angel sometimes looked at him as if he wanted to ask him about it, but he didn't. Angel was good that way. He never pressured Connor into anything. Much.

Unfortunately, all the doting was starting to wear on him a little bit, and he wondered what he could do to make it stop. The truth was that Angel was causing him grief by trying to do the exact opposite. He felt guilty—he was getting good at that, must have gotten it from his dad—but what was he supposed to do? Tell Angel he was being too nice to him?

Connor missed Dawn, and he knew Spike and Angel missed Buffy, but the return of Gunn and Illyria had provided enough distraction that he couldn't think about it too much. Gunn's "vacation" with Illyria had apparently renewed his lust to kill vampires, and he badgered Angel about it until he agreed to go out with him on an old fashioned hunt. Illyria insisted that she and her pet accompany them, even though Spike didn't much look like he wanted to go. Connor didn't want to be left out, so he gathered his own weapons from the case and joined the group.

"Where do you think you're going, hot shot?" Gunn asked, looking him up and down.

"Out with you," Connor answered as if Gunn were stupid.

"Huh uh," Gunn said, shaking his head. "How long has it been since you've gone on a hunt?"

"I didn't forget how!" Connor insisted, frowning. "See vampire, stake vampire."

"Thanks a lot," Spike murmured. "Where's the 'Ask vampire if he has a soul first?'"

"You've been out of the game longer than you think, Connor," Gunn said. "You might be rusty. Maybe you could do some training with us here before going out into the real world."

"I've been in the real world!" Connor said angrily. "I took care of myself just fine in Quor-toth—which, by the way, was a hell of a lot worse than L.A.!'

"Calm down, pal," Angel said soothingly, patting him on the shoulder. "Maybe Gunn's right. I'd love to have you work with us again, but—"

"Ha," Gunn scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. "When did Connor ever work _for _us? He did nothing but work against us, Angel, and you know it."

"Gunn!" Angel said angrily. "Shut up."

"They are angry," Illyria commented informatively to Spike, clearly pleased to be showing off her newfound emotional skills. "It entertains me."

"Yeah, Blue," Spike murmured, looking uncomfortable.

"Connor," Angel said quietly, taking him by the shoulders and looking him in the eyes rather pleadingly. "Maybe you can come next time, okay? Let's ease you back in. I don't want you doing anything that gets you hurt."

"I don't want him doing anything that gets me hurt," Gunn added.

Before he'd even realized his own intentions, Connor pulled free of Angel and shoved Gunn backwards. Not as hard as he could, but hard enough to knock him down.

"Whoa, mate!" Spike said, quickly stepping in between the two of them and reaching back to offer Gunn a hand up. "That'll be enough of that!"

"Connor," Angel said, his voice disappointed and strained. "I want to see you in my room for a minute, okay?"

Without a word, but with a flaming face, Connor turned and sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He heard Angel say something to the gang downstairs, but his ears were buzzing with too much anger to make out—or care—what it was.

"What's the problem, pal?" Angel asked when he joined him, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Connor shook his head, too angry to answer without yelling.

"Sit down," Angel said, nodding at his bed, and Connor did. "I know you're upset, but Gunn does have a point, you know. You've not been a part of this scene for a long time..."

Connor looked up, shooting him an annoyed scowl.

"I didn't say you _can't_ be," Angel said quickly, accurately guessing Connor's objection to that statement. "You've just been concentrating on other things for so long now, and your most recent memories are probably more about girls and television than vampires and demons."

"Whose fault is that?" Connor said hotly. "I didn't ask you to screw with my head, did I?"

"No, son, you didn't," Angel agreed with a pained expression on his face. "But even if I could undo it, I wouldn't. You've grown into such a good young man."

"And I wasn't before?" Connor asked vehemently, even though he believed those words himself.

"I didn't say that," Angel said tightly. "I have always loved you, and I always will."

"I know," Connor muttered, staring at the floor.

"That being said," Angel continued, and Connor looked up nervously. "What the hell were you thinking pushing Gunn like that?"

"You heard what he said," Connor spat.

"Yeah, I did," Angel agreed gently. "And it wasn't very nice, but that doesn't give you license to knock him on his ass, either."

"He made me mad," Connor said, shrugging and feeling about three inches tall.

"How are we supposed to get anything done if we're fighting amongst ourselves every time we make each other mad?" Angel asked. "You know better than that."

"I know it was wrong," Connor admitted grudgingly. "I'll apologize."

"I appreciate that, Connor," Angel said gently. "You just got yourself out of the belt, but you're not off the hook."

"You're gonna hit me for shoving someone?" Connor asked, more amused than he should have been. "I guess you never read Dr. Spock, huh?"

"Never did like that guy," Angel said, pointing to the floor in front of him.

Connor heaved himself off the bed with a reluctant sigh and made his way to Angel, who spun him to the side as soon as he was within reach and gave him no more than ten stinging smacks on his jean clad bottom.

"Is that it?" Connor asked before he could stop himself, giving his dad a sheepish grin.

Without returning the smile in the least, Angel jerked him right back around and gave him two hard slaps on the thighs that made him yelp.

"Do you want some more?" Angel asked seriously.

"No, sir," Connor replied immediately, shoving his hands into his back pockets.

"I want you to sit this game out," Angel said. "We'll do some training, and then if you still want to get back into the whole monster killing thing, you can. Deal?"

"Deal," Connor agreed, even though he really didn't like it.

Connor left Angel's room and made his way downstairs to a very quiet group of misfits. While he doubted that Angel had announced his intentions to spank him, they obviously knew it had happened, and he found it quite difficult to speak through his embarrassment. He cleared his throat and somehow looked Gunn directly in the eye and apologized.

"Hey, it's okay, man," Gunn said uncomfortably. "I didn't mean that stuff I said earlier."

"Yeah, you did," Connor said, grinning ruefully. "But it's okay. I'm not like that anymore, and I want... I want you to be able to trust me someday, but I totally understand if you don't. And I'm not just saying that because Angel yelled at me."

Gunn laughed and pulled Connor to him in a quick embrace.

"Like you never shoved anybody," Spike murmured, staring reproachfully at Angel. Connor didn't know what was going on there, and he was pretty sure he didn't want to know.

"Let's get to work, guys," Angel said, gathering his things off the counter and encouraging them to do the same. "Connor's gonna wait and do some training with us before he rejoins the team."

"I wish to oversee his training," Illyria said eagerly and in a way that made Connor blush uncomfortably.

"We'll see," Angel said, smirking.

"That means no," Spike whispered, winking at Connor.

"You are welcome to hang out here if you want, Connor," Angel offered over his shoulder as the gang made their way out the door. "I don't know how late we'll be, though."

"Thanks," Connor said. "I think I'll just go home."

"Good night, then," Angel said, disappearing.

Connor waited until he was sure they were gone and then rubbed at the back of his legs. Those last couple of smacks had hurt a lot more than he'd let on, and even though he knew he shouldn't, he did sorta resent getting in trouble because of Gunn. He was just as good a fighter—better even—as Gunn, and so what if he hadn't been doing much demon slaying lately? Just because he was going to school now and trying to lead a semi-normal life, that didn't mean he'd gone completely soft. He could still slay evil things with the best of them. Those thoughts must have been what led him to answer the phone when it rang instead of just allowing the machine to pick it up.


	25. Chapter 25

The lady on the other end frantically told him all about the vampire problem she'd been having, and before he could even consider doing otherwise, Connor had gotten the address and headed out there with his weapons. They hadn't turned out to be much of a problem for him, though, and he disposed of them quickly.

"Here," the woman said, reaching into her purse and getting her checkbook. "What do I owe you?"

"Oh," Connor said uncomfortably. "No. Nothing."

"That's no way to run a business," the woman said, frowning.

"On the house," Connor said, giving her his most charming smile. "Special offer for a first time customer."

"Are you sure?" she asked skeptically.

"Positive," Connor said. "Don't mention it. Really. Don't."

The woman reluctantly let him leave without paying him, and as Connor walked to his apartment and the adrenaline from the slayage wore off, he started to feel a little uneasy about what he'd just done. Not so much about killing the vampires—they had been right outside the woman's house two nights in a row, terrorizing her—but because he knew Angel would be upset with him if—hell, _when—_ he found out. He heated up some leftovers for his late dinner and eventually went to bed, figuring it wouldn't do much good to worry about it.

School the next day was … school-like. Connor really questioned why he had taken some of these classes. Was it to torture himself with boredom? He attended each one diligently, however. He hadn't missed a class since Spike got back, and he was making extra sure to do all his homework. He was studying that evening when a brisk knock at the door brought him to his feet.

"Dad," he greeted uncertainly. "The sun _just_ went down. I hope you were careful getting here."

"Yeah," Angel answered shortly.

"What's up?" Connor asked.

"I was hoping you could clear something up for me, Connor," Angel said, and Connor really didn't like the tone of his voice.

"Wh-what's that?" he asked innocently, which came out sounding guilty.

"Maybe you can explain to me why I got a visit from a woman today who said she just didn't feel right about not paying us for our services. A woman I'd never seen before, and neither had Gunn, Spike, or Illyria. Can you explain that to me, son?"

"It was nothing," Connor said, swallowing hard. "It was sort of an emergency situation, and you were gone."

"It was nothing, or it was an emergency?" Angel asked coolly. "It can't be both."

"It was nothing for me and an emergency for her," Connor argued hotly.

"All you had to do was call me," Angel said, pointing his finger right in Connor's face.

"I didn't need to call," Connor said, taking a step back. "I knew I could handle it myself."

"You deliberately disobeyed me," Angel said.

"I did not!" Connor said desperately, feeling his face heat up when Angel started throwing around words like "disobey."

"You didn't?" Angel asked. "What would you call it, then? What would you call running off on your own when you _just_ agreed that you needed to do some refresher training before you even came out with the rest of us?"

"But I didn't need any 'refresher training,'" Connor insisted. "I was fine. I was _good, _Dad!"

"You obviously need a reminder about consequences, little boy," Angel said ominously.

"I don't," Connor said weakly, staring at the carpet underneath him. "I remember. There are always consequences."

"You could have gotten hurt!" Angel said angrily. "Or killed!"

"But I didn't!" Connor argued.

"I guess this is my fault," Angel said sadly.

"It isn't," Connor replied automatically, having no idea what Angel even meant by that.

"It is," Angel said. "I've been too lax lately, and you seem to have forgotten that when I say something, I mean it."

"I know you do, Dad," Connor said meekly, wishing his heart would stop hammering so hard.

"You are in so much trouble, young man," Angel said, and it was all Connor could do not to reply, "Duh!"

"I'm sorry," he offered instead. "I didn't think it was a big deal."

"If that were true, you wouldn't have hidden it from me," Angel pointed out.

"Sorry," Connor repeated in a whisper.

"I'm gonna let you choose," Angel said. "You can be grounded for a week, or you can get your bottom warmed. What'll it be?"

Connor knew he should be grateful, because honestly, he'd been expecting both of those things to happen, but somehow he couldn't seem to muster up the gratitude.

"Just spank me," he mumbled after a moment, remembering how miserable being grounded had made him the last time. A spanking made him miserable every time, but at least it was over quickly.

Angel reached for him, seemingly happy to oblige, but he stepped back.

"What?" Angel asked.

"It's just..." Connor said, glancing nervously at the wall. "I mean, I have neighbors. Do you have to do it here?"

Angel looked around as though he really hadn't considered the possibility of the neighbors hearing or interfering, and for a moment he looked uncertain.

"I'm not trying to get out of it," Connor added quickly. "I just... Can't you do it later? At your house? At least there everyone already knows."

"Okay," Angel agreed. "But not later. Now. Get in the car."

"All right," Connor said, already regretting his decision.

Angel stood back to allow him out the door first, and as he passed him, his dad gave him one hard smack on the bottom to hurry him along. Connor kept his head down and quickly got in the car. Angel joined him and they had a long, silent ride to the Hyperion.

Connor headed straight up the staircase without a word to Gunn, who was in the lobby, but he met Spike in the hallway before he could escape into Angel's room.

"You in trouble?" Spike asked.

"Yeah," Connor said, nodding toward the staircase at the sound of Angel's footsteps.

"Right. Well, good luck, then" Spike offered, disappearing back into his own room even though he'd clearly been on his way downstairs.

Hoping to be spared more lecturing, Connor got himself right over the end of Angel's bed before his dad had even made it into the room. Of course, he also hoped that when his father saw this agreeable display of cooperation that he would let him keep his jeans on. He sensed Angel hesitate when he came through the door, but he didn't look around until he heard him rummaging in his closet.

"What are you doing?" he asked nervously as _"No more wire hangers!"_ ran through his mind.

"Just getting a belt," Angel said almost casually.

"Oh," Connor answered, thinking that his dad had been dead wrong—ha, dead—when he'd said that a strapping no longer struck enough fear into his heart. It seemed to be striking plenty now.

"Okay," Angel finally said.

"Do you always take this long to pick out clothes?" Connor asked jokingly, but the first lick fell hard before he'd even gotten all the words out.

"Are you going to take this punishment seriously?" Angel asked. "Or do your pants need to come down?"

"Yes," Connor said, breathing hard and trying to recover from the sting of that first horrible swat. "I mean yes, I'll take it seriously. Sir."

"You don't have to call me sir," Angel said, smacking him again, lower and just as hard. "But I'd appreciate it if you'd mind me when I ask you to do something."

"I'm sorry," Connor said, finding that he meant it.

His apology got him three good and hard overlapping whacks, which he took stoically except for the girlish squeak that escaped his throat on the last one.

"I'm sorry!" he repeated, burying his face in Angel's bedspread and blinking away the tears that threatened to fall.

"Okay, pal," Angel said, returning his belt to the closet.

Connor didn't at all register those words as a sign that it was over, so he stayed put.

"Come on," Angel said gently as he sat down next to him. "Get up, unless you're inviting me to continue."

"Oh," Connor said, embarrassed. "I didn't... I thought..."

"I'm done," Angel said, pulling him up and hugging him around the shoulders.

"I'm really not grounded?" Connor asked, just to make sure. "Like, that was my punishment?"

"Did you want more?" Angel asked, amused.

"No," Connor said quietly, slipping his hands underneath him. "And I don't want you to think I don't take it seriously. I just... I get nervous, and I babble. I know you think I'm trying to be a smartass, but I'm not."

Angel just patted him on the back in reply, and Connor found himself doing exactly what he'd just said—babbling.

"I mean, I'm not saying I want more punishment," Connor mumbled. "I just thought you were gonna be harder on me. After what I did. I... I feel bad, Dad."

"Come here," Angel said, pulling him right across his lap and not really giving him a choice in the matter.

"No," Connor groaned. "I don't feel _that_ bad."

"You could have gotten yourself hurt," Angel scolded, smacking him soundly across the bottom.

"You're hurting me now!" Connor protested.

"You'll recover from this," Angel said, unfazed. "You can't recover from death."

Connor didn't have any snappy comebacks for that, so he lay there and took the rather mild spanking that Angel dished out with a minimal amount of protest.

"You're hurting my hand," Angel complained after a minute.

Connor snorted. "Sorry?"

"Should get a paddle for you," Angel threatened, releasing him and gathering him into another sideways hug.

"I'm bad enough to need my own paddle?" Connor asked sadly, only half joking.

"Probably not," Angel admitted. "But that doesn't mean I won't get one anyway."

"You don't have to do that," Connor said hotly, embarrassed. "Geez."

"I'm only kidding," Angel assured him. "Kinda. But you just pull another stunt like that and see if it doesn't happen."

"Got it," Connor murmured.

"Until you're cleared for solo demon fighting, what are you going to do?" Angel asked.

"Let you handle it," Connor said, defeated.

"That's right," Angel said, nodding.

"Gunn's gonna have a field day with this," Connor grumbled, staring at the floor.

"You just don't worry about Gunn," Angel advised. "He won't be on your case. He'll come around soon enough. You'll see."

Connor didn't feel like continuing that conversation, so he attempted to change the subject.

"Are you gonna give me a ride home, or do I have to walk?" he asked, standing and stretching.

"You wanna drive?" Angel asked.

"Really?" Connor asked excitedly. "You'd let me?"

"Sure, pal," Angel said, pulling his keys out of his pocket and dropping them into Connor's hand.

"Awesome!" Connor exclaimed happily, wrapping his arms around Angel. "You're the best, Dad!"

"Yeah, well," Angel murmured uncomfortably, trying to hide his pleased smile.

"I'm going to the car!" Connor announced. "Hurry up!"

"I'll meet you down there in a minute," Angel told him.

Connor flung Angel's door open and headed toward the stairs, but Spike's voice stopped him.

"Hey!" Spike called.

"Yeah?" Connor asked.

"Where you off to in such a good mood?" Spike asked suspiciously.

"Home," Connor said.

"Mind if I come along?" Spike asked hopefully, already pulling his coat on. "We haven't had any quality television time together in awhile."

"Sure," Connor said, and then held up his dad's keys. "Angel's gonna let me drive!"

"Oh," Spike said, suddenly sour for some reason. He glanced at Angel's bedroom door and added, "Never mind," before ducking back into his room and slamming the door.

Connor shrugged. He'd find out later. He sprinted down the stairs and waved hello and goodbye simultaneously to Gunn, who was still in the lobby. He knew he was being kinda rude, but he didn't want anything spoiling this positive turn of events he was having.

"Okay," Angel said nervously when he _finally_ got in the car. "You have your seat belt on?"

"Check," Connor answered.

"Mirrors adjusted?" Angel asked.

"Check."

"Parking brake off?"

"Dad, I do know _how_ to drive," Connor said flippantly. "It's just that I never _get_ to. I've had my license since I was sixteen!"

"You weren't even here when you were sixteen!" Angel said, looking at Connor's feet and clearly wanting to make sure he knew the brake from the gas.

"I've got this, okay?" Connor said. "Stop being so uptight."

Angel set his mouth in a grim line and nodded for Connor to start the car. Just as Connor had expected, he drove with perfect precision to his apartment, despite Angel clinging desperately to the door grip the entire time. Angel begrudgingly admitted that Connor had done a good job, and he smiled triumphantly as he cut the engine off, but the smile faded when he spotted a familiar SUV in the lot.

"What's wrong?" Angel asked.

"My parents are here," Connor said tightly.


	26. Chapter 26

"What do we do?" Angel asked, sounding near panic.

"What are you so nervous for?" Connor asked, laughing. "We weren't doing anything wrong. Unless you're afraid of being busted for illicit parenting."

"I'll just go," Angel said.

"Don't be silly, Angel," Connor said, rolling his eyes. "At least come say hello. It's gonna make me look suspicious if you don't. In fact, it's gonna look suspicious if we don't get out of this car soon."

Connor pulled the keys from the ignition and tossed them to Angel.

"Thanks for letting me drive," he said as he got out. "It was cool."

Connor rushed over to his parents' vehicle and tapped on the window.

"Hey, son!" his dad—other dad—exclaimed happily, getting out and hugging him.

"Is anything wrong?" Connor asked. "Where's Abby?"

"No, nothing's wrong," he assured him. "You know your sister. Can't be seen out with her parents."

"Oh, we've missed you so much!" his mother said, rushing toward him and planting kisses all over his face.

"Mom, whoa!" Connor said, laughing and pulling away. "I do have an image to maintain here."

"Sorry to just drop by like this," his dad said. "We were just out doing some errands and thought we'd come see our boy."

"No, it's fine," Connor said. "I hope you haven't been waiting long."

"Not long at all," his mom said. "We hadn't even got out to knock yet."

"Good," Connor said. "Well, uh, you remember Angel?"

Connor motioned for Angel, who was hanging back reluctantly by his car as if he might jump in and speed off at any moment.

"Of course. Mr. Angel. From that law firm," his dad said uncertainly, offering Angel his hand.

"Hello, sir," Angel said quietly as they shook hands, and then immediately shoved both of his hands into his coat pockets and looked away like a shy teenager.

"Laurence and Colleen," Connor reminded him.

"So, you two are friends?" Colleen asked, smiling tentatively as if she couldn't decide if she liked the idea or not.

"Let's go inside," Connor said, ushering them toward his apartment.

Angel stayed where he was until Connor shot him a dirty look over his shoulder and jerked his head for him to follow. He did so, but the reluctance oozed out of him.

"I'll make some coffee," Connor said once they were all inside.

"I don't know, honey," Colleen said. "It's a little late for coffee, don't you think?"

"Never too late for coffee," Connor argued.

"So," Laurence said, turning his attention to Angel, who lingered by the door, ready to bolt. "How do you... I mean, I guess I know how you _know_ Connor. I just didn't realize you two had kept in touch."

"Yeah," Angel said lamely.

"Angel's..." Connor started, then trailed off as he realized he had no idea how he'd planned to finish that sentence.

"Connor's been uh … doing some work for me," Angel offered helpfully. Connor attempted to make what he considered the universal motion for "Stop talking right now," but it was too late.

"Sweetheart," his mother said, turning from her position on the couch to look at him. "I thought we agreed you would focus on school. If money's an issue, you should have said something!"

"Oh," Angel said awkwardly, realizing he'd made a mistake.

"It's not about money," Connor interrupted. "Angel pays really lousy, anyway."

"It was nice to meet you. Again," Angel said suddenly with his hand on the doorknob. "I'm sorry, but I have to get going."

"Pleasure meeting you again," Colleen said, standing and showing him out the door, through which he practically fled.

Connor rolled his eyes. Angel's people skills needed some serious work.

Once Angel had gone, Laurence and Colleen turned their full attention toward Connor expectantly.

"What?" he asked. "If it's about the mess, I swear I'm gonna clean it up tomorrow."

"No," Colleen said, but she looked around the living room anyway. "It's just... Why didn't you mention that you and that man kept in touch?"

"I didn't think it was a big deal," Connor said, pouring two cups of coffee and bringing them to his parents. "He's just a friend. He um... He watches out for me, you know?"

"So, he's your … mentor?" Laurence asked, giving him a funny look.

"Sure, if you want to call it that," Connor said easily, shrugging.

"How often do you meet with him?" Colleen asked, downing half of her scalding hot coffee even though she'd said it was too late for it.

"I dunno," Connor said uncomfortably.

"Look, son, if he's … taking advantage … of you in any way," Laurence started, but the look of what must have been shock and horror on Connor's face cut him off.

"No, Dad, it's not like that!" Connor exclaimed. "Honest. It's really, really not."

"Honey, you know we won't care if you're … gay," his mother said, patting him on the knee.

"Oh my God!" Connor said, laughing incredulously. "I am so not gay! And neither is he! This conversation is just so wrong in so many ways. You don't even know!"

"Well, why don't you tell us, then?" his mother asked, bristling a little. "You never tell us anything that's going on in your life anymore. What are we supposed to think when you show up with a strange man?"

"He isn't strange," Connor said. "Well, maybe a little. But he isn't a stranger. He's a friend. Am I not allowed to have friends?"

"Of course you are," his dad said. "We love that you have friends."

Those words had barely come to fruition when Spike suddenly flung Connor's door open and announced, "I brought booze!" before looking silently from Connor to each of his parents.

"Er..." Spike said awkwardly when no one spoke. "Wrong apartment! Sorry!"

It took every ounce of self-discipline that he had, but Connor kept his face blank and didn't laugh as Spike slowly backed out of his apartment and shut the door quietly behind him. He looked at his parents to gauge their reactions, but they were both still staring transfixed at the door.

"Was that Billy Idol?" his mother asked after a few moments of total silence.

"I don't think so," his father said uncertainly. "Connor, doesn't that man work at Wolfram & Hart, too? I think I remember seeing him there. Hair like that is hard to forget."

"Oh, um..." Connor stammered. "Well. No, not anymore. No one really works there anymore."

"No one works there?" his dad echoed.

"Yeah, it kinda … went out of business," Connor said, shrugging. "You know how these things go."

"Wasn't Mr. Angel the CEO?" his mother asked, the disapproval clear in her voice.

"Yeah," Connor said.

"Couldn't handle the pressure?" his dad asked.

"I don't know, Dad," Connor said uncomfortably. "Sometimes these things just happen."

"Well, Mr. Angel said you had done some work for him..." his mother said rather accusingly.

"Yeah," Connor said, making a mental note to punch Angel in the arm for that later. "He... He has a different business now. Less law firmy, more … um … investigation-centered."

"Investigating what?" his mother asked with concern. "You're not doing anything dangerous, are you? Or illegal? You'd better not be doing anything illegal!"

"I'm not doing anything illegal!" Connor assured her, shaking his head. "Just, you know, paperwork and stuff. Data entry. Boring things like that."

"Okay," she said, but her tone of voice indicated that she didn't quite believe him.

"Well, I think we'd better be going, Colleen," his dad said suddenly, getting to his feet. "It's getting late. We'd better let Connor get back to … studying."

"You don't have to go," Connor said immediately, more out of good manners than the actual desire to further entertain them with tales of his life.

"We'll see you again soon, honey," his mother said, kissing him on the forehead.

"We'll call first next time," his dad added, shaking hands with him.

"G'night, guys," Connor said as he waved and watched them until they got safely in their SUV and left.

"What was that all about?" Spike asked, suddenly dropping down easily from the railing above him.

"Jesus!" Connor said. "You scared me!"

"Were those Jehovah's Witnesses?" Spike asked, shoving a brown paper sack into his arms.

"No!" Connor said, turning to go back inside, more than a little grateful that Spike would take his mind off what had just transpired. "Those were my parents! And that was a prime example of why you should always knock, by the way."

"I think I handled it smoothly," Spike said confidently, dropping onto the couch. "Give me one of those beers."

"Yes, master," Connor said sarcastically, handing him one.

"Where's your remote?" Spike asking, digging around in the couch cushions.

"I don't know," Connor said, storing the rest of the beer in the fridge. "You're the one who's always losing it."

"I can't watch the tele with no remote!" Spike said, scowling and lifting the entire couch up to search for it.

"Go watch your own TV, then," Connor said, sounding a little more irritable than he'd meant to.

"Can't," Spike said simply as he finally spotted the coveted object underneath the coffee table. "Got it!"

"What do you mean, you can't?" Connor asked.

Spike regarded him silently for a moment, taking the opportunity to down half his bottle of beer.

"That wasn't an answer," Connor pointed out.

"Angel stole mine," he finally said after a moment.

"Angel stole your television?" Connor asked, confused. "Why? He doesn't even like TV."

"I know!" Spike agreed.

"Well, I mean, can't you just go take it back?" Connor asked.

"No," Spike replied, flipping through the channels.

"Any particular reason why?" Connor asked, equating this conversation to pulling teeth.

"Just can't," Spike said. "Now shush. My show's on."

"_This _is your show?" Connor asked doubtfully as he stared at whatever Japanese game show Spike had turned it to. "You had to come all the way over here to watch this?"

"Look, just get off my back, okay?" Spike snapped. "Why do you always gotta ask so many bloody questions? You're just like _him_ sometimes!"

Connor was a bit taken aback by the sudden outburst, so he refrained from replying and just sat down quietly beside his friend, thinking about the odd situation.

"Spike..." he said tentatively after a few minutes. "Don't take this the wrong way..."

"Oh, great," Spike muttered, not taking his eyes off the screen. "Never have good words followed those ones."

"Well," Connor said, laughing. "I mean, I was just curious is all... Did Angel... Did he like, ground you from watching television?"

"What?" Spike demanded in a higher pitch than normal. "That's—what—that's just the stupidest thing you've ever come off with. And you say a lot of stupid things, what with being his child and all."

"So he did," Connor said, nodding and smirking a little.

Spike rolled his eyes and finished off his beer in one long gulp.

"Go get me another beer and maybe I'll tell you," he said.

Connor shrugged and did as he asked, and stared at him expectantly when he seemed to have forgotten his part of the bargain.

"So?" Connor prompted. "What's up?"

"Your father has gone off the deep end!" Spike said. "That's what."

"He seemed fine to me tonight," Connor said, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Fine?" Spike scoffed. "Was that before or after he whipped your arse?"

Connor blushed.

"I don't really see what that's got to do with anything," he said defensively. "It's not like this is something new for..."

Connor trailed off and looked at Spike, who looked exceedingly uncomfortable.

"Oh my God," Connor said. "Did he whip _your _arse?"

"No," Spike answered quickly. "And you don't get to say 'arse.' You're not British."

"I was raised by an Englishman," Connor argued, then shook his head. "Stop trying to change the subject!"

"There is no subject to change," Spike said sullenly. "Leave me alone and let's watch the tele."

"Not until you tell me the truth," Connor said, snatching the remote out of Spike's hand and turning the television completely off.

"Do you want me to pound you?" Spike asked, irritated.

"I'll tell my dad," Connor threatened, smirking.

Spike closed his eyes and took a deep breath and then a long drink of alcohol.

"All right, look," he said slowly. "A few nights ago, I... I had sort of an accident, see."

"What kind of accident?" Connor asked, concerned. "Are you okay?"

"I'm bloody here talking to you, aren't I?" Spike asked, motioning impatiently for him to be quiet.

"Touche. Go on," Connor said.

"So I had this accident, and your dad completely overreacted—"

"Huh uh. What was the accident?" Connor insisted.

Spike rolled his eyes.

"If I tell you, will you stop interrupting?"

"Probably not," Connor admitted. "But tell me anyway."

"Fine," Spike said, defeated. "I fell asleep watching television. Happy?"

"No," Connor said. "How is that an accident?"

"Because I had a lit cigarette in my hand, and I kinda caught myself on fire a little bit," Spike said, attempting to rush through the words and make light of the situation. "So then—"

"You did _what_?" Connor shrieked, slapping him hard on the arm. "You idiot!"

"Ow!" Spike yelled, giving Connor a hateful look. "It was only a _little _fire!"

"I'm glad you're alive. Moron," Connor muttered.

"I'm not alive," Spike pointed out. "But I'm here. _Anyway, _that got your old man all riled up, and he rained hellfire and brimstone down on me like I was some sort of wayward adolescent."

"Did he spank you?" Connor asked point-blank.

"No, he didn't," Spike said sincerely. "But he did hear me yelling when I was trying to put the flames out, and he helped me to do that by slapping the shit out of every inch of me he could get to."

"If that had been me, I'd _still _be getting my ass whupped," Connor said matter-of-factly, shivering a little bit at the mere thought. "He'd go through every belt he owns and half of yours."

"Well, I'm not you," Spike said hotly. "And obviously he didn't just let it slide. When he realized what had happened, he took my television away from me. Took it clean out of my room! I don't even know what he did with it."

"Wouldn't it have made more sense to take your cigarettes away?" Connor asked.

"Connor," Spike said, giving him a pointed look. "There are some battles even Angel knows he can't win. Now turn the tele back on."

Connor sighed and flipped the Japanese game show back on just in time to see a tiny woman make an impressive dive into a vat of green goo.

"You can't really be mad at him for it, you know," he said softly after awhile. "I mean, that was a really stupid thing you did. And he'll probably let you have the TV back after awhile if you don't do anything else completely devoid of brainpower."

"While I do find your utter lack of sympathy quite refreshing, please shut up about it," Spike said.

"Where was Illyria during all this?" Connor asked.

"Standing in the doorway watching," Spike said dryly.

Connor laughed, and then he laughed even harder when he realized Spike was serious.

"She didn't help?" Connor asked when he caught his breath.

"She told Angel to slap me harder so the gift she gave me didn't incur damage," Spike said sullenly.

"Oh," Connor asked with interest. "What _was_ your gift, anyway?"

"None of your business," Spike replied crisply. "You've done enough prying into my personal life for one night."

"Oh, come on," Connor said lightly. "I promise not to laugh."

"No," Spike repeated. "I'm not telling you. It's private."

"Okay," Connor said easily. "I'll just assume the worst, then. Dog collar. Chastity belt. Promise ring..."

"Will you _can it_?" Spike demanded in exasperation, pointing animatedly at the television. "I can't hear a word they're saying!"

"It's all in Japanese!" Connor said, laughing.

"That doesn't mean I don't want to hear it!" Spike exclaimed. "God!"

"Corsage," Connor continued thoughtfully. "Cor_set_..."

"She got me underwear, all right?" Spike said, caving.

"That's it?" Connor asked. "She went all the way to Texas and brought you back underwear?"

"Well," Spike muttered. "It was boxer shorts. With a print of a Texas longhorn across the … the front."

"Across the crotch, you mean?" Connor asked, highly amused.

"Yeah," Spike admitted.

"Classy," Connor said, nodding and somehow keeping his promise not to laugh.

"I think Gunn encouraged her to get them," Spike said bitterly. "Bit of a laugh at my expense, you know."

"Yeah," Connor answered. "She wouldn't know any better."

"She's getting better at it," Spike said.

"At what?" Connor asked. "Picking out underwear?"

"Being here," Spike said simply. "Living. And besides, they _are _some pretty sweet boxers. You're just jealous."

"You know me so well," Connor agreed.

With that, they both fell silent and watched Japanese game shows until Connor fell asleep. When he awoke in the wee hours of the morning, Spike had gone—and the remote control was missing again.


	27. Chapter 27

Connor couldn't wait to tell Angel all about how his parents had thought he was his lover. He spent all day—while he was supposed to be taking notes—daydreaming about it and rehearsing in his mind how he would tell the story in such a way as to produce the perfect horrified, thunderstruck look on his father's face. He practically skipped to the Hyperion after his last class.

"Hey, Dad," he called cheerfully, waving at Angel through his office window.

"Hey, Con," Angel said. "Just a minute, okay?"

"Sure," Connor said, slinging his backpack onto the couch.

Angel finished up whatever paperwork he was doing in his office and came out to greet Connor.

"How was school?" Angel asked.

"Yeah, fine," Connor said, brushing it off. "My mom and dad thought you were my boyfriend!"

"I was afraid of that," Angel said, frowning.

"You were?" Connor asked, disappointed at his lack of reaction.

"Sorry," Angel said. "I knew this would happen. I told you I should have just gone."

"Nah, it was fine," Connor said reassuringly. "I told them we weren't gay lovers. But then Spike showed up..."

"He did?" Angel asked. "Did he stay?"

"Nah," Connor answered. "Came back after they left. Had a real jones for some TV..."

"Hey, he made his choice," was Angel's mysterious reply.

"He did?" Connor asked, bemused and intrigued.

"Yeah," was all Angel said to that.

"Well," Connor said, reaching for his backpack. "I just came by to shock and horrify you, but since you've ruined that for me, I guess I'll head home."

"Wait," Angel said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Don't you want to stay awhile?"

"What for?" Connor asked suspiciously, then immediately regretted it when Angel looked hurt by the comment.

"I just thought maybe we could spend some time together," Angel mumbled. "It's okay, though."

"I didn't mean it like that, Dad," Connor said, dropping his bag on the floor and giving Angel the hug that he looked like he needed.

"Sit down. Tell me more about your parents," Angel invited. "I'll make coffee."

"You have cream?" Connor asked hopefully.

"Just for you," Angel said happily.

"Cool. Thanks."

Angel brought Connor some coffee in Spike's Sex Pistols mug, which he accepted without comment. Connor noticed that Angel hadn't brought himself anything, though, and he decided to ask him about it.

"Are you embarrassed to, you know, drink blood in front of me?" he asked.

"Huh?" Angel said, surprised by the question.

"Because you totally don't have to be," Connor continued. "I mean, I'm not _too_ grossed out by it."

"I'm not embarrassed," Angel said. "I'm just not hungry."

"You're never hungry in front of me," Connor pointed out. "I mean, I'm not gonna flip out or anything, Dad. After watching Dawn tear into a anchovy-laden pizza, I think I can watch anyone eat anything."

Angel laughed. "Yeah, she is something, isn't she?"

"I wish we could have kept her," Connor said wistfully.

"You're starting to sound like Illyria," Angel commented. "Always wanting more pets."

"Oh, I didn't mean it that way," Connor clarified. "She just... She made me look like a saint!"

"I don't know about _that_," Angel said, smirking.

"Yeah right. Did you know that she totally spied on me when... when you made me get a switch?" Connor asked.

"Yeah, I knew," Angel said.

"You did?" Connor asked, feeling like he'd been somehow betrayed.

"Vampire," Angel said, pointing at himself. "Also Dawn—not as sneaky as she likes to think she is. Clomps around like a horse."

"Well, I have great hearing, too, and I didn't hear her," Connor muttered.

"Your attention was elsewhere," Angel said.

"Speaking of which, is that thing still under the couch?" Connor wondered, reaching below him and feeling around until he grasped something very switch-like and pulled it out.

"Guess so," Angel said, looking at Connor with amusement as he held the now brittle branch carefully between his thumb and forefinger as if it might break free and bite him. "Were you saving that for later?"

"No," Connor said quickly. "I don't think it's good anymore, anyway."

"Want me to test it out?" Angel asked, clearly amused.

"Ha ha," Connor said dryly, snapping the branch in his hands and wanting very much to change the subject. "So, what did you want to know about my mom and d... my parents?"

"Everything," Angel said simply.

"Don't you already know?" Connor asked. "I mean, you picked them out. I assumed you had a screening process or something."

"I didn't exactly have a whole lot of time," Angel said carefully. "They were … sort of an express order."

"Ah. Got it," Connor said, blushing when he thought about his past behavior. "Well, you did good, Dad. They were—they are—really great to me, and I am grateful to you for that."

"You may be the only good thing Wolfram & Hart ever did for me," Angel commented, absently running his fingers through Connor's hair. "The only deal they didn't break. More or less."

"My parents want to know why you, as CEO, ran Wolfram & Hart into the ground," Connor told him, smirking. "My dad said some people can't handle the pressure."

"So they think your boyfriend's a failure, do they?" Angel asked.

"Oh, well," Connor said, shrugging. "Listen, Dad. Have you ever wondered how come... I mean, how come you guys remember me now... And all that stuff that happened... But my parents don't? I mean, I got my memories back—all jumbled and messed up, but back—but they don't seem to have any memories of me _not_ being their son."

"I don't know, pal," Angel said, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. "And maybe it wouldn't even matter if they did."

"What do you mean?" Connor asked.

"Do you still _feel_ like their son?" Angel asked after a moment.

Great. What was the correct answer to that? Did a correct answer to that even exist? Connor shifted around uncomfortably and glanced at Angel, who had his eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

"I'm your son," he said weakly.

"I'm not..." Angel started, then lifted his gaze and looked straight at Connor as if trying to put on a convincing show of sincerity for his benefit. "I'm not trying to make you feel bad, Connor. I'm trying to tell you that it's _okay_ that you still feel like their son. The more people who love you in this world, the better."

"Okay," Connor said lamely, not knowing what else he could say.

"Buffy knows Dawn isn't... Well, I shouldn't say 'isn't'... Buffy knows that Dawn wasn't always her sister," Angel explained. "And their mother found out, too. And you know what? It didn't change a thing."

"But what if it's different for me, Dad?" Connor asked quietly, finally voicing a fear he'd kept secret for some time now. "What if they wake up one morning and they... They remember, and they realize what's happened, and they don't want me anymore?"

"Did you not listen to a word I just said?" Angel asked, trying to keep his voice light but not quite succeeding. "That isn't going to happen."

"But what if it does?" Connor asked.

"You can waste your whole life thinking about 'what if,' Connor," Angel said, ruffling his hair. "And trust me on this, that's not a good use of your time."

"They're gonna freak out," Connor insisted. "They're not like you. They aren't used to this type of thing. They're... normal."

"Connor," Angel said gently, pushing his head down onto his shoulder. "Just hush."

"You can't make this go away by telling me to hush," Connor informed Angel's shirt.

"Hush anyway, or I'll smack you," Angel threatened, tapping him lightly on the side of the leg.

"You wouldn't," Connor murmured.

Connor looked up suddenly as Spike made his way down the stairs. He wondered if his friend would turn straight around and leave when he saw Angel in the lobby, but he didn't. He continued straight toward them and took Connor's cup of coffee away from him.

"Hey!" Connor protested as Spike downed the rest of it.

"Get your own mug," Spike said, pointing at his. "This one's mine."

"Play nice, kids," Angel said, amused.

"Yes, Dad," Connor said as Spike uttered a sarcastic, "Yes, Father."

"I guess you did a poor job teaching Spike how to share," Connor commented, not without snark.

"Oh, Angel and I have shared lots of things," Spike said, and then looked uncomfortable—but not nearly as uncomfortable as Angel did.

"Hey, so, are you busy right now?" Angel asked suddenly, jumping to his feet and clapping his hands together.

"Who, me?" Connor asked.

"Both of you," he replied.

"I guess not," Connor answered.

"That depends on what you want," Spike said suspiciously.

"I was thinking we could go down to the basement and do a little sparring. You know, see how much Connor can handle."

"Cool!" Connor exclaimed excitedly, and then blushed, thinking that he'd sounded way too much like a little kid there.

"Great!" Angel said, sounding almost as happy himself. "Spike?"

"Yeah, all right," Spike said reluctantly, setting his mug down. "But why do I get the feeling I'm playing the part of Evil Vamp #1?"

"That's the spirit!" Angel said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Come on."

An hour later, Connor and Spike both lay stretched out on the basement floor, exhausted. Connor had totally kicked Spike's ass—several times—but Angel had been a different story. Angel hadn't even broken a sweat, in fact, and he stood there leaning against the wall, nearly smirking at them.

"What?" Spike asked, raising his head from the floor long enough to scowl at Angel. "We're tired."

"So I see," Angel commented lightly. "You need to get out of the floor, though. It's kinda dirty."

"Whose fault is that?" Spike asked.

"Hey, you live here, too," Angel said. "It wouldn't kill you to push a broom around once in awhile."

"It might," Spike countered. "I could trip over some of this junk and impale myself on the broomstick. Then wouldn't you feel stupid?"

Connor laughed and jumped to his feet in one smooth motion. He was glad he could still do that. He reached a hand down for Spike and hefted him to his feet as well.

"Ready to go again?" Angel asked.

"No more," Connor said.

"Don't want another spankin'?" Angel asked, smirking.

"No," Connor said. "Not in any sense of the word."

"Let's go out and have a drink," Spike suggested.

"It's a school night," Angel said, frowning.

"Not for me. Besides, I said _a_ drink," Spike said, rolling his eyes. "Not get hammered."

"Well, fine, but don't keep Connor out too late," Angel said.

"You're not coming?" Connor asked, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

"Nah," Angel answered. "I've got work to do. Have fun. Not too much fun, though."

Connor looked at Spike and shrugged.

"I'm gonna run home and change," he said. "I'll meet you out there."

"How do you know where we're going?" Spike asked.

"We always go to the same place," Connor said. "That piece of crap dive."

"Maybe I wanted to change it up," Spike said. "Go to a different piece of crap dive. You don't know."

"Whatever," Connor said, rolling his eyes. "I'll meet you there."

Connor ran home and took a quick shower. Half an hour later, he was feeling good—the endorphins from his training session were still flowing—and on his way to the bar.


	28. Chapter 28

Connor's eyes flew open. He didn't recognize the ceiling. He leapt to his feet, only to immediately regret it as he doubled over and vomited.

Had he been roofied? Also, what was a roofie? He wasn't sure where that word had come from. It didn't matter. He really needed to find a bathroom and rinse his mouth out. One glance around the room told him this definitely wasn't the Hyperion. He stood stock still and listened. He could hear people next door moving around, talking, and laughing, but he appeared to be alone in this particular apartment. He slowly pushed the door open and peered cautiously into a tiny hallway.

Connor spotted the bathroom immediately and made a stealthy dash toward it. He shut the door behind him and quickly splashed water into his mouth and over his sweaty face. God how he loved running water.

As he dried his face on a nearby towel, he heard noise. His first instinct was to climb out the window—but it appeared this bathroom had no window. What kind of idiot chose a home without proper escape routes?

"Connor?" the noisemaker suddenly called, and he froze in his tracks. "Connor, what are you doing in there? You know what, I don't even want to know."

Connor cracked the bathroom door open a tiny bit so that he could try to catch a glimpse of the person. Luckily, the apartment appeared to be quite small, and he got a direct view of someone hunched over, prowling around in the refrigerator.

"Just a minute," he quietly replied after much debate. He'd had to clear his throat twice before he could get any words to come out.

"Did you go to class today?" the intruder demanded. Or was Connor the intruder? Perhaps Connor was in this person's home, because he certainly didn't live here. But the man knew his name—or at least, the name the vampire had given him—so he must have let him in willingly.

"Well, did you?" the man asked again, still rummaging through the refrigerator. "God, please tell me you made it to school. If you missed your classes again, your dad's gonna skin you alive! And then I'll somehow get blamed for it, too."

Connor had no idea what this man was going on about, or if it was a literal or figurative skinning alive he could look forward to, but he decided he had to come out of the bathroom. He crept silently across the cold tile floor and leaned his back against a counter in the kitchen to watch the man, who was _still_ halfway into the refrigerator.

"What do you want?" Connor asked briskly.

"That's a fine how do you do," the man chided, rising from the refrigerator with a plastic container of something in his hand. He had the most ridiculously fake blond hair that Connor had ever seen.

"What do you want?" Connor repeated.

"Probably not this," the man said, popping the lid off the container and making a face. "Don't you ever clean out the fridge? I don't even know what this used to be. Besides, I thought you said you were gonna get some blood in here?"

"Blood?" Connor asked, feeling his heart rate pick up.

"Yeah, blood," he replied, giving Connor a curious look as he tossed the container, offending former food item and all, into the sink. "You feeling all right, mate? You're lookin' a little green."

"Where am I?" Connor suddenly asked, no longer wishing to continue this conversation.

"Er..." the man said, looking very concerned and on guard. "Maybe we should go see your father."

"Father?" Connor asked.

"Yeah," the blond said. "You know. 'Bout yay high, hair a little higher than that. Giant forehead. Answers to the name Peaches?"

"He doesn't want to see me," Connor said, his mouth going completely dry.

"What are you on about?" the man asked. "Of course he wants to see you. He wants to see you every day. He'd move you in with us tomorrow if he thought you'd go for it."

"Us?" Connor asked. "You don't live here?"

"No," the man said slowly. "_You _live here. And you're obviously not well. I'm calling Angel."

"No," Connor said, shaking his head frantically. He wished the man would move so he could get to the sink. He was about to be sick again.

Connor couldn't wait, suddenly rushing toward the sink, and the man quickly stepped back out of his way and let him be sick. While he was vomiting, Connor finally put two and two together and realized that this strange man must be a vampire friend of Angel's. When he'd emptied his stomach, he threw open the drawer beside the sink and pulled out a wooden spoon, brandishing the handle end toward the vampire.

"Hey, whoa!" the man said, holding both hands up in the air, and clearly offended. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

"You come any closer to me, and I'll stake you," Connor threatened.

"Connor, we need to go see your dad. You're sick or something, mate," the man said, for all intents and purposes sounding quite sincere. But vampires were skilled at lying.

"You're not taking me to that monster!" Connor yelled.

"No one's gonna hurt you, mate," the man said, trying to calm him with his words. "Put the … spoon … down, and we'll talk about this, all right?"

"I'm done talking to you, vampire!" Connor spat, lunging toward the demon, fully intending to stake him and be done with it.

"Stop it!" the man shouted sternly, reaching forward and knocking the spoon right out of his hand before he could even think of plunging it through his chest. "Stop this nonsense right now, Connor!"

Connor thought he could probably take this vamp in hand-to-hand, so he continued forward undeterred, hoping to take out some of his frustration on him before finishing him off. He was caught off guard by a sudden wave of nausea, however, and felt a horrible pain in the side of his head as he collapsed onto his knees. Right before he blacked out, he had the fleeting thought that he rather welcomed death.


	29. Chapter 29

"Jesus, Spike, how hard did you hit him?"

"I'm sorry, Angel! I had to knock him out. He was gonna dust me! There's something wrong with him. He was talking out of his head."

Connor listened to the whispered argument for several seconds as he came to. He expected to find his hands tied, but they weren't. He barely opened his eyes to survey his surroundings. He appeared to be laid out on the couch in Angel's office at the Hyperion. So, his father had decided to kill him after all.

"He's stirring," the blond one murmured. He was apparently named Spike. What a stupid name.

"Hey, pal. Don't move too much," Angel said gently as he practically tripped over his own feet to get to the couch. "You took a pretty hard knock on the head."

"I said I was sorry!" Spike hissed from the doorway.

Angel reached a hand toward Connor's face, but he pulled back warily.

"What... What's going on, Connor?" Angel asked, settling for a hand on his shoulder since Connor wouldn't let him touch his head.

"Don't touch me," Connor said dully. "Just kill me if you're going to."

"What the?" Angel asked. "I'm not going to kill you! Connor, something has happened to you. What's the last thing you remember?"

"Who was that girl you took back to your place last night?" Spike interrupted. "Do you know where she lives? What's her name?"

"He took a girl home?" Angel asked, frowning in Spike's direction.

"Look, I'm not his keeper, okay?" Spike said hotly. "He's a grown man and can make his own decisions."

"Obviously not," Angel muttered, peering closely at the side of Connor's head where Spike had hit him. "Get him an ice pack."

Connor was really confused, so he just lay quietly and let Angel fuss over him, even though his muscles screamed at him to flee by any means possible.

"Who is this girl who went home with you?" Angel asked once Spike had left the room.

"I don't know what he's talking about," Connor said quietly. "I don't know anything about any girl."

"What's the last thing you remember, then?" Angel asked again.

"You telling me to get out of your house," Connor answered after a moment.

"Connor, that... Are you sure that's the last thing you remember?" Angel asked with alarm.

Connor didn't reply. He just peered at the vampire uncertainly before turning his head over the arm of the couch and vomiting involuntarily into the floor.

"Hang on, pal, I'll get you some water," Angel said over his shoulder as he disappeared into the kitchen. He was back before Connor could even consider trying to leave.

"Sorry," Connor mumbled, staring with disgust at the mess he'd just made. "I didn't mean to."

"It's fine," Angel said, not even giving the scene a second glance. "Here, drink up."

Connor smelled the water tentatively just in case this was all an elaborate ruse and Angel was trying to poison him. He determined that it was okay enough and downed it in one gulp just as Spike returned with a makeshift ice pack.

"Sorry 'bout the thumping, Junior," he said as he offered it to him. "You left me no choice."

"Does it have a soul, too?" Connor asked of Angel, nodding at Spike.

"_It_?" Spike asked disdainfully. "_It_? I don't like this one, Angel! You get me the other one back right now!"

"Be quiet and let me think," Angel said, crouching down in front of Connor and affectionately patting him on the leg.

"Why are you being nice to me?" Connor asked.

"I'm always nice to you," Angel answered. "Even when you think I'm not."

Connor didn't know what to make of that reply, so he fell silent and just watched the two vampires watch him.

"Maybe he should lie down for a bit," Spike suggested after a few moments. "Maybe he'll wake up and be good as new."

"You just knocked him out and he didn't," Angel pointed out.

"I'll just go," Connor said, attempting to get to his feet.

Angel and Spike both laughed. Connor scowled.

"You're not going anywhere, little man," Angel said firmly. "Unless you wanna go lie down on my bed."

"I don't want anything from you," Connor said, his voice low and angry. "Get out of my way and let me leave!"

"You'd better drop the attitude, Connor," Angel warned, raising his eyebrows. "Don't think for a second that I won't bust your butt just because you don't remember that I can."

That comment perplexed Connor even more, so he decided to just ignore it.

"You told me to get out. Why won't you let me?" he asked.

"Connor... A lot's happened since then," Angel offered. "It's... Will you listen to me? Will you let me tell you some things? Without trying to attack anyone in the immediate area while I tell them?"

"No," Connor replied hatefully. "You killed my father. Nothing you can say will change that."

"You'd be surprised," Angel murmured, and then unexpectedly scooped Connor right off the couch and into his arms.

"What are you doing? Put me down!" Connor demanded, thrashing wildly. "Don't touch me! Put me down!"

"We're gonna go upstairs," Angel said calmly, ignoring the struggling. "And you're gonna lie down and listen for awhile."

"No!" Connor yelled. "I won't!"

He could have sworn that Angel rolled his eyes at that.

"Spike," Angel said, reaching his arm around and putting a hand over Connor's mouth to muffle his yelling.

"Yeah?" Spike asked, looking uncomfortable.

"Go back to Connor's and get some of his things. Phone, clothes..." He looked at the boy in his arms. "Shoes. God, you didn't even bring his shoes!"

"I _told_ you he was trying to _kill me_," Spike said, enunciating slowly and dramatically. "Sorry if I didn't think to pack an overnight bag."

"Bring his backpack, too, if you see it," Angel instructed.

"What for?" Spike asked incredulously. "Does he look like he's gonna be up for some calculus any time soon?"

"Just do it," Angel said tiredly. "Maybe seeing some of his stuff will help him remember."

"Right," Spike said. "Can I take your car?"

"Yeah, of course," Angel said without hesitation, and Connor felt a pang of jealousy that he didn't quite understand.

As soon as Spike was out the door, Angel turned all his attention to Connor.

"Now," he began. "If I take my hand off your mouth, are you gonna be quiet?"

Connor narrowed his eyes into hateful slits and just glared at the vampire.

"Good," Angel said, removing his hand and readjusting Connor in his arms. "Up we go, then."

"I can walk, you know," Connor muttered.

"Tough," Angel answered, carrying him straight to his room and depositing him on the bed.

"I don't want to sit here," Connor argued. "It smells like vampire."

"Tough," Angel answered again.

"I hate you!" Connor yelled, which finally elicited a better response from Angel—he looked hurt.

"I know you think you do right now, Connor," he said gently. "But you don't. Not normally. Now shut up and listen to me for a minute."

Angel pulled up a chair next to the bed, making Connor groan. If he intended to sit, it was probably going to be a long, one-sided conversation. Connor listened—not intently, but he listened—for thirty minutes or more while Angel told him all sorts of lies. Lies like, "I didn't kill Holtz; he killed himself" and "You and I are sort of friends now" and "You're under a spell or something making you forget a whole bunch of stuff."

"Father wouldn't have done that to me," Connor insisted quietly when Angel paused.

"He did," Angel said sadly. "I'm sorry, but he did."

"Why should I believe you?" Connor spat. "You're nothing but a demon."

"Connor, a lot of time has passed," Angel said. "Look at me. Do I look like I just got back from a deep sea adventure?"

Connor had to admit that his father did look remarkably well for someone who'd been pulled from the ocean just hours before, but that didn't mean anything. Vampires healed quickly. He'd probably eaten someone to accelerate the process.

"Where are Fred and Gunn?" he asked suddenly. "I want to talk to Fred and Gunn."

They were probably still incredibly angry with him, but at least they were human.

"Well..." Angel said, trailing off. "You can talk to Gunn, but Fred's... not here right now."

"What did you do with her?" he demanded angrily. "Did you eat her? Is that how you got well so fast?"

"What?" Angel exclaimed, looking like he wanted to slap him. "No! Of course I didn't eat Fred. When have I ever eaten one of our friends?"

"Did you find Cordelia?" Connor asked.

"No," Angel said after an awkwardly long pause.

"Well, I didn't do anything to her!" Connor shouted. "I swear I didn't, and I don't care if you don't believe me."

"I know you didn't, buddy," Angel said, patting him on the shoulder. "Just... hush."

Connor was about to argue that he didn't want to hush, and that he didn't want to be here, and that Angel had already thrown him out, so why couldn't he leave... But Spike returned with armloads of stuff—his stuff, apparently—and he watched the two vampires with interest.

"Give me his phone," Angel directed. "I'm gonna go through his contacts. See if we can figure out who this girl is he took home."

"That's mine!" Connor protested, even though he didn't recognize the shiny blue cell phone. "You can't just go through my things!"

"Watch me," Angel said brusquely.

"Here, put your shoes on," Spike said, tossing him some tennis shoes.

Connor was going to argue with that, too, but then he realized that getting away would be a lot easier if he had shoes on, so he complied.

"God, how do you even... What's this button do? Why won't it come on?" Angel asked, holding the phone in a way that even Connor could tell was upside down.

"It's touchscreen, Angel, for heaven's sake," Spike said, snatching it away from him. "I'll do it."

"Give me that," Connor tried again.

"No," Angel said firmly, then turned his attention back to Spike. "This girl, what do you remember about her?"

"Um..." Spike said, scrolling through Connor's contacts. "Thin. Blond. Kinda nervous acting. Think it might have been the same girl he went out with awhile back."

"When he was grounded?" Angel asked, and Spike nodded.

Well, that was just ridiculous. When had Connor ever been grounded? Gunn had explained to him what it meant and even threatened to do it several times, but he'd never followed through, because he knew he couldn't enforce it. Besides, didn't he live in that apartment he'd woken up in? That's what they kept telling him. How could anyone make him stay in his room at his own home?

"Connor," Spike said. "Name some female names. The first ones that come to mind."

"No," Connor said petulantly.

"No?" Spike asked, looking at Angel like it was his fault that Connor wouldn't do it.

"That's right. No," Connor said smugly.

"Connor, please just do it," Angel practically begged.

"Fine," Connor said, huffing. "Cordelia. Fred. Buffy. Dawn. Sunny. Who's Dawn?"

"Somehow I don't think it was any of them," Spike said, ignoring the question and continuing to look at Connor's phone. "I'm gonna go through his pictures. See if there's anything there."

"It takes pictures?" Angel asked in awe.

"Seriously, mate?" Spike asked skeptically. "Get with the program here."

"I want to see the pictures," Angel said, reaching for the phone.

"Hold it," Spike said, pulling it away. "There might be some things on here that a boy wouldn't want his father seeing, you know... Oh yes, _definitely_ things on here like that!"

Spike chuckled and gave Connor a conspiratorial smile that he didn't return. Connor had no idea what he was talking about.

"I'm just gonna delete this one all together," Spike murmured to himself. "Oh yeah, and that one's got to go... Whoa! I'm not sure that was even legal..."

"I want to see," Connor insisted, interested in spite of himself.

"All right," Spike said easily, joining him on the bed and handing him the phone.

"What am I doing in this one?" Connor asked, holding it up for Spike to see.

"Er... Well," Spike said, glancing warily toward Angel. "We were at a party in that one. I believe that's what's known as a body shot."

"Cool," Connor said, smiling slightly.

"Not cool!" Angel argued. "Not cool at all! What kind of party did you take him to, Spike?"

"A fun one," Spike said simply.

"Why do you have on that hat?" Connor asked, showing Spike another picture. "And where's your shirt?"

"Just never you mind," Spike said, taking the phone away from him. He scrolled through the rest of the pictures and shook his head. "She's not in here, mate."

"Connor, do you want something to eat?" Angel asked, and Connor got the feeling he was trying to somehow use that to have a private conversation with Spike. "I'll go down and get you something."

"I want cookies," he blurted out on impulse.

"Cookies?" Angel repeated, a faint smile on his lips. "Are you sure?"

"Those chocolate ones. With the cream in them."

"Well, I don't know if we have any of those..." Angel said apologetically.

"Figures," Connor muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. "We never have anything here but blood and tomatoes. This place sucks."

"Wow," Spike commented lightly. "Someone needs to be smacked and sent to bed."

Connor gave him one of his finest sneers.

"C'mon, Spike, let's go see about those … cookies," Angel said, and Connor couldn't tell if he'd said the word with distaste or amusement. "We'll bring you something back in a minute, okay, Con?"

"Whatever," Connor replied, rolling his eyes.

As soon as the sound of their footsteps faded, Connor scrambled off of Angel's bed and dashed for the window. He hesitated for a moment with his hand on the curtain. Did he really want to leave? Angel, demon or not, had made a pretty convincing argument that maybe things weren't quite right. And he didn't seem to be too upset about the whole ocean thing anymore, either. The blond vampire was kinda cool, and he seemed to genuinely like him—which was more than anyone else around here ever did.

Connor shook his head to clear out the evil thoughts. Father would be ashamed of him for even entertaining them. Worrying about whether a vampire likes him or not—Jesus! He'd lost his ever-loving mind, and he needed to get out of here fast before they could pollute his thoughts with any more garbage. He swung his leg out over the windowsill and landed swiftly on his feet on the sidewalk a few seconds later. He didn't know where he was going, but he had to get there fast.


	30. Chapter 30

Angel hadn't lied. Well, about the date, anyway. Connor checked at a newspaper stand that he passed once he'd determined he was far enough away to stop running.

Life was hard. He had no clue where he was or where he intended to go. He couldn't go back to his apartment as they would undoubtedly look for him there—and he also couldn't remember where it was. It wasn't like he had any friends in this godforsaken city, either. He kicked at a gravel on the sidewalk.

He hadn't even brought any of his stuff with him. Not his cool touchscreen phone. Not even a blanket. Connor regretted this poor planning, but he didn't have to dwell on it too long because he heard muffled cries from a nearby alley. He quickly ran to investigate and ducked down behind a dumpster.

Those were vampires, all right. The soulless kind, it certainly appeared. Well, they'd regret preying on innocent people tonight, because Connor was tired, hungry, and in a really bad mood. He reached up and into the dumpster and rummaged around until he found an abandoned table leg. He snapped it in two and advanced straight toward the vamps, who turned at the sound of his approach.

"Look, Johnny," one of them said, smiling a sinister smile. "Dessert!"

Connor quickly glanced toward the woman they'd been harassing, but she didn't look like she'd actually been the main course yet. She was shaking like a leaf up against the brick wall, but was otherwise unscathed.

"Bring it," Connor challenged with a confident sneer, and they did.

These vamps weren't the smart kind that Connor sometimes encountered, and they grossly underestimated him. He dusted them so easily it was almost unsatisfying. Almost.

He kind of expected the shaking girl in the alley to shower him with praise or at least thank him, but she just ran away screaming. Oh well. So it goes.

All that talk of dessert must have made him hungry, because as Connor sauntered out of the dark alley, his stomach grumbled unhappily. He no longer felt queasy, but he had nothing left to throw up anyway. He could smell all kinds of good smells coming from nearby vendors, and he wished he had some money. Then it occurred to him—maybe he did. If he was really all grown up and going to college and living on his own, he had to have money, right? He checked his pocket, and sure enough, he had a wallet. He opened it slowly, almost afraid of what he might find—or not find—in there, but things were looking up. Ten bucks! He had a debit card, too. Fred had taught him about those, though, and he knew he needed a PIN to use it. He pulled it out and look at it curiously. _Connor Reilly. _Well, he had expected any number of names to appear there, but he hadn't expected that one. No combination of any of his familial relations could account for that last name, and while he hoped he'd just made it up, he worried briefly that he had lifted the name and the wallet from someone else.

"Connor!" someone shouted angrily, startling him so badly that he dropped the card. He quickly picked it up and put it away before turning to acknowledge Gunn.

"Yeah?" he tried to say nonchalantly.

"Don't you 'yeah' me!" Gunn said. "Get your ass over here."

Connor rolled his eyes and walked up to the passenger side of Gunn's truck, which he totally hadn't noticed parked there on the side of the street. Whatever drugs he'd been given must have dulled his senses. Yeah, that was it. It certainly wasn't due to his own carelessness.

"Your daddy's looking for you," Gunn informed him as if he didn't know. "What the hell do you think you're doing, running off like that?"

"I'm fine," Connor answered, still trying to play it cool. "I was just going to get something to eat."

"Look, Connor, they told me what happened," Gunn said, getting out of his truck and coming toward him. "Just get in and let's go home."

"How did you find me?" Connor asked, more curious than angry.

"They don't call me Mr. Sexy Detective for nothing," Gunn answered proudly.

"Who calls you that?" Connor asked skeptically. "I've never heard anyone call you that. Ever."

"Just get in the truck," Gunn said irritably, jerking his thumb toward the vehicle.

"No," Connor said. "I'm not going back."

"Oh yes, you are," Gunn said, taking a threatening step toward him. "If I have to drag you back by your hair—which I could do, 'cuz it's way too long—you're going back."

"I can take you," Connor said scornfully, but he took a step back instead.

"Boy, if you make me chase you down this street..." Gunn said warningly. "Besides, you think I didn't already call Angel? He'll be here in a heartbeat tracking you down."

"He doesn't have a heartbeat," Connor said, thinking he'd been really clever under the circumstances.

"Get in the truck," Gunn repeated. "We'll go home and get you all sorted out, okay? Everything will be fine."

"Nothing is ever fine here," Connor said.

"You've got a point there, kid. Let's go home anyway. You're stressing Angel out, and he gets all grouchy and takes it out on the rest of us."

Connor considered taking off. He could figure out how to support himself. From the looks of things, he already knew how—he just had to remember. But he didn't remember, and he didn't know how to _start_ remembering, either. At least the vampire—Angel—seemed more than willing to help him with that... even though he'd sent him on an apparently unmerited ocean voyage. Connor felt sick again.

"Okay," he finally said without enthusiasm, reaching for the door handle, and Gunn gave him a strange look. He seemed disappointed to have avoided the confrontation.

"Yeah. That's what I thought," he said weakly, sliding back into the driver's seat and starting the engine before Connor could change his mind. "Let's get you home to Daddy."

Connor sighed and pressed his face into the cool glass of the window as they pulled away. He was such a failure. He couldn't even run away right. He couldn't do anything right.

Gunn pulled out his phone and jammed on some buttons that eventually produced Angel. Connor didn't even try to pretend like he wasn't listening to the conversation.

"I got him, Angel," Gunn said. "You can call off the hounds."

"I thought you already called him!" Connor exclaimed indignantly.

"Fooled you," Gunn said, smirking. "And don't you even think about jumping out of this moving vehicle."

"Let me talk to him," Angel was demanding on the other end.

Gunn held the phone out to him, but Connor refused it, shaking his head slowly. Gunn shrugged.

"He don't feel like talking," he explained to Angel.

"Okay," Angel said, sounding disappointed.

"We'll be there soon," Gunn promised, snapping his phone shut.

Gunn didn't say anything else to him, and eventually the silence unnerved Connor so much that he had to sneak a surreptitious glance in his direction. It seemed that, in the time that had passed, Angel had forgiven him for … all of it … but Gunn seemed just as aggravated as ever. It gave Connor a headache to go with his upset stomach.

"Is Fred still mad at me, too?" he asked in a small voice.

"Huh?" Gunn said, swerving slightly.

"Is Fred still mad? About what I did?" Connor repeated.

"I … don't know," Gunn said. "I don't think so."

"Did you two break up?" Connor asked.

"Sometimes things don't work out," Gunn conceded.

Connor was quiet for a few minutes while he took that statement in.

"Angel says he didn't kill my father... Is it true?" he finally asked, unsure which answer he hoped for.

"Yeah, that's true," Gunn said, his gruff demeanor softening slightly. "You... You didn't know Angel then. You do now. I mean, you know now that he wouldn't have done anything to your... to Holtz. Angel's a good man."

"He must hate me, then," Connor said sadly.

"Nah," Gunn said immediately and sincerely. "Angel loves you more than anything. Don't take this to mean that you can do whatever the hell you want, but I don't think there's anything you could ever do to make him stop loving you."

Words like that made Connor uncomfortable, especially since they referred to a demon. He shouldn't crave a vampire's love, but... he did. Much to his chagrin, tears sprang to his eyes, and he had to blink hard to keep them from falling.

"I'm sorry, Gunn," Connor offered quietly once he trusted himself to be able to speak. "For lying to you and Fred all this time."

Gunn looked at him uncertainly for a moment before holding his hand out for a brotherly fist bump.

"We're cool, man," he said.

"Really?" Connor asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, really," Gunn reassured him.

"If you talk to Fred, will you tell her, too?" Connor asked. "Tell her that I'm sorry?"

"Yeah," Gunn answered simply. "I'll tell her."

Connor leaned his head against the glass again. They weren't as far from the Hyperion as he'd thought, unfortunately, and he started feeling nervous as they pulled up to the curb.

"Man," Gunn said, chuckling as he got out of the truck. "I can't believe they were stupid enough to leave you alone!"

"I know, right?" Connor agreed, smiling a little.

Gunn returned the smile, but clamped a firm hand on the back of his neck to steer him into the hotel.

"Connor!" Angel exclaimed with relief, rushing toward him so quickly that he took a few unconscious steps back.

"Hey," he said, since he felt like he was expected to say something.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" Spike demanded angrily. "We left you alone for two minutes!"

"I only needed ten seconds to get out the window, dumbass," Connor replied smartly, then clamped his hand over his mouth in surprise.

Instead of enraging him, the words seemed to delight Spike to no end.

"See, Angel!" he said, pointing happily. "See? He's still in there! We can get him back!"

"Of course we'll get him back," Angel said with alarm, as if maybe he hadn't yet considered the possibility of his son _not_ regaining his memories. "And watch your mouth, Connor."

"I'd say a 'dumbass' was warranted," Gunn offered, finally releasing the grip he had on Connor's neck. "Leaving _this_ kid alone? 'Course, I guess you all didn't spend three months hunting him down every other day."

"I didn't think he was gonna run off!" Angel said hotly. "I thought he had more sense than that."

"I'm standing right here, Dad," Connor murmured, again looking confused by his own words.

"Yeah, well, go to your room. I mean my room. Go to my room," Angel said. "And this time you'd better be there when I come up."

"Okay," Connor said dully, turning to do just that without question.

He sprinted up the stairs and planted himself immediately on Angel's bed. He didn't even care anymore that it smelled like vampire. He realized that he had much bigger problems. One of them was coming up the stairs.

"Hey, pal," Angel said gently, closing the door behind him. "We need to talk."

Connor nodded and looked at Angel expectantly.

"I... I know this must be awful for you," he continued. "Not knowing who you are..."

"I know who I am," Connor protested.

"Well, yeah, son, you do. I just meant... You haven't exactly gone back to the happiest place in your memory reserve, all right? You've had all kinds of experiences—good experiences—and I hate that you don't know that right now."

Connor shrugged. Nothing good had ever happened to him as far as he knew.

"I mean," Angel babbled on, "you're in college now. And you've had some girlfriends who were actually appropriate for you..."

"What do you mean?" Connor asked.

"Oh," Angel said, looking like he'd made a mistake. "I just meant... I just meant that I'm so happy about how things turned out for you. And I want you to know that we'll find a way to get it all back for you, okay?"

Connor just looked at him. The words didn't mean much since he didn't know that he'd lost much of anything.

"However," Angel said, his tone of voice taking a sudden turn toward the severe. "What you did earlier was unacceptable, and we will _not_ have a repeat of it. You need to stay here and let me keep you safe until I _tell _you it's safe. Do you understand me?"

Connor did understand the words, but he couldn't make himself promise he wouldn't leave again, so he just stared at Angel's boots. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, Angel had advanced on him and lifted him off the bed. He took his left arm in a vice-like grip and gave him three extremely hard smacks across the seat of his pants. Connor gasped in surprise and met his dad's stern gaze for all of two seconds before he unexpectedly dissolved into tears.

"Oh—Oh, Connor, I'm sorry," Angel apologized immediately, hugging him awkwardly. "I'm sorry, pal. Don't cry. Daddy's sorry."

Connor shook his head in an attempt to convey that he didn't need or want the comfort, but Angel kept clinging to him anyway. He sat them both down on the bed and threw an arm around his shoulders. Connor tried to pull away, angry about the swats and embarrassed that he couldn't seem to stop the tears, but Angel held him too tightly.

"It's all right," he soothed. "I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry. Here, look, I got you those cookies."

Angel reached out to his nightstand and grabbed the pack of cookies, which he dropped into Connor's lap. That only made him cry harder.

"Oh," Angel said helplessly. "I'm sorry, son. Are they the wrong kind? Here, if you don't want them, I'll take them away..."

Connor shook his head and held onto them. He did want them.

"Please don't cry," Angel begged, kissing him on the top of the head. "I'm sorry I spanked you like that. Please don't cry."

Connor didn't know how to explain that it wasn't the spanking—though that hurt—that had made him completely break down so much as the fact that he felt alone, miserable, and disgusted with himself for so many reasons.

"You're really not kicking me out?" he finally asked tearfully, his breath hitching.

"No, Connor. You're not going anywhere," Angel said soothingly.

"I threw you in the ocean, and you're not mad?" he asked incredulously.

Connor found it rather incomprehensible that the only thing this vampire planned to do to him for his recent behavior was to give him a few whacks and a pack of cookies.

"Well, I mean, I _was_ mad, Connor," Angel said. "And I... I did throw you out before, but I wish I hadn't. That wasn't what you needed."

"Father would hate that I'm here," he said sadly after a moment. "I shouldn't be here."

"Yeah, well, I'm gonna decide what's best for you right now," Angel said sternly. "Not you, and certainly not him."

"I thought you killed him," Connor said, fresh sobs coming along with the words. "I thought you killed him, and I... I made sure he wouldn't come back. I did awful things to his body."

Angel hugged him even tighter.

"And you know what, pal?" he said. "I bet he would be so proud of you for that."

Connor took a deep breath while he thought that one over. The words made him feel a lot better, whether they were true or not. Almost without thinking about it, Connor opened his package of cookies and shoved one into his mouth.

"I don't want you running off again," Angel said gently once Connor had gotten himself under control. "I know you're not gonna be happy about this, but if you do it again, I will find you. And when I get you home, you're not gonna like what happens. Are we clear?"

"You mean you'll hit me again?" Connor asked.

"I will _spank_ you again," Angel said firmly, taking him by the chin and forcing him to look him in the eye. "And not a cakewalk like you just got. I mean for real."

"That one wasn't real?" Connor asked dubiously. He also didn't know what a cakewalk was, but he didn't ask. "It felt real."

"You've had much worse," Angel assured him.

"But you said you were sorry you did it," Connor argued. "Why would you do it again if you're sorry?"

"I'm sorry it upset you so much," Angel said earnestly. "But now that you know what to expect, it won't next time."

Connor shoveled another cookie into his mouth to prevent saying something to make "next time" come early. Angel smiled at him slightly and tousled his hair affectionately.

"Come on. We'll make you something better for dinner than cookies, okay?"

"I like cookies," Connor murmured.

"I know, pal."

Connor wasn't at all confident that Angel knew how to "make" anything, but to his credit, he did manage an excellent grilled cheese sandwich, and he didn't even hover over Connor while he ate it.

"I need Lorne," Angel said, sighing. "If he could just read him, maybe we could see something..."

"Why don't you call him up, then?" Spike suggested.

Angel gave him a rather dirty look.

"He's not exactly speaking to me of late," he explained.

"Oh," Spike said, shrugging.

"Listen, Angel," Gunn said awkwardly. "I may be able to get a hold of him. If you want."

"You could?" Angel asked hopefully.

"Yeah. I mean, we talk. Sometimes. You know."

"I don't need him!" Connor protested once he understood what they were going on about. "I don't need some demon to look into my head!"

"Connor, don't talk with your mouth full," Angel answered dismissively.

"Don't tell me what to do!" Connor responded without really thinking about it. And with his mouth full.

Angel gave him a look that completely withered him, and he averted his gaze and stuffed the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth.

"I'll call him," Gunn said, leaving the lobby and heading toward the stairs. "See what he says. I'll let you know."

"Thanks, Gunn," Angel said.

Connor didn't really think any gratitude was necessary, but he didn't say so. He stared at his plate until they remembered he was there again.

"Why don't you go up and grab a shower, pal?" Angel suggested. "You... kinda smell like a dumpster."

"I was in one tonight," Connor informed him matter-of-factly. "Had to get a stake."

"You fought off vampires tonight?" Angel asked sharply, making Connor wonder if he'd somehow done something wrong.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "That's what we do, isn't it?"

"Only the ones without souls," Spike clarified. "Did you ask them if they had souls?"

"They didn't have souls," Angel said irritably.

"Well, they might've," Spike said sullenly. "You don't know. You like to think you're all special, but obviously you're not. I've got a soul, too. And I asked for mine, unlike _some _people."

"Do you want to go to your room?" Angel asked, and for a moment Connor actually thought he'd been speaking to him, but then he saw Spike cringe.

"You can't send him to his room," Connor piped up. "He's a grown man."

"Er... Thanks, mate," Spike said, grinning and giving Angel a smug look. "But don't go pickin' a battle you can't win, all right?"

Connor shrugged and pushed himself out of his chair to go upstairs.

"Wait," Angel said.

"What?" Connor asked.

"Put your plate in the sink," Angel said, and Connor rolled his eyes.

"Sir, yes, sir," he answered, giving him a mock salute.

Connor, very confused by his own actions, then gave Angel an apologetic look and a weak shrug.

"It's okay, pal," Angel said.

"I think it's wearing off," Spike said hopefully. "Maybe you should go see if you can smack the rest of it out of him."

"No!" Connor said in alarm.

"Relax," Angel said, rolling his eyes. "And mind your own business, Spike."

"It is my business," Spike argued. "When you go smacking my best mate all the time, when he's not even that bad. Most of the time."

"I'm your best mate?" Connor asked in surprise. "Cool."

"Yeah, well, don't go getting a big head about it or anything," Spike said. "I'm pretty fickle. Could change my mind at any moment."

"Shower, Connor," Angel repeated. "Then bed, I think."

"I'm not tired," Connor answered.

"Well, I am," Angel said. "So you're going to bed."

"That's not fair," Connor muttered.

"Tough," was Angel's heartless reply.

Connor was working himself into the mood for a showdown, though somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that it was childish to argue over bedtime. Luckily Gunn reappeared, halting Connor in whatever nasty comment he hadn't come up with yet.

"He says he'll come, man," Gunn told Angel.

"That's great!" Angel exclaimed.

"Is not," Connor murmured, but they ignored him.

"Well, he's doing some things in Vegas," Gunn said. "He can't make it for two days."

"What?" Angel asked. "Two days? We can't wait that long. I'll just drive Connor out there and—"

"Uh, well," Gunn interrupted uncomfortably. "He uh... He sort of specifically said for you _not_ to do that."

"What?" Angel asked in surprise. "Why?"

"He said every time we show up, his home and/or place of business gets wrecked."

"Oh," Angel said quietly. "Well, thanks, Gunn. So much."

Gunn nodded and headed back upstairs. Angel turned to Connor and took him loosely by the wrist.

"What are you doing?" Connor asked nervously.

"Since you've refused to go up by yourself, I'm gonna take you there," Angel replied.

"No, you don't have to do that," Connor insisted, pulling his arm away. "I'll go on my own."

"Are you sure you don't need help?" Angel asked, and Connor felt his face go red at being treated like a child.

"No, Angel," he managed to get out.

"No, you don't need help, or no, you're not sure?" Angel asked, a smile playing on his lips.

"You're teasing me," Connor said in shock. "I don't like it."

"I want you in bed within half an hour," Angel said firmly, all traces of the smile gone.

"All right," Connor conceded, getting up and walking a careful distance around Angel in case he got any crazy ideas about holding his hand again.

Connor rinsed off in the shower in what he considered to be his room, but none of his things were there any longer. He didn't even have soap. It occurred to him while he was in the shower that he hadn't brought any of his clean clothes from Angel's room, either, but he wasn't about to go in there and get them. Not quite wanting to put his dumpster diving clothes back on, however, he wrapped up in a giant towel and peeked his head out the bathroom door to make sure he was alone.

Angel had brought his bags in while he'd been in the shower and deposited them on the bed. He'd laid out what appeared to be his pajamas for him, and when Connor reached for them, he found a handwritten note lying on top.

_I love you_, it said, and Connor felt the silent tears run down his face.


	31. Chapter 31

"I don't know what to do about school," Angel was saying. "He's gonna flunk out if he keeps missing classes."

"He'll be fine, Angel," Spike said. "It's not like we can just send him there and ask him to fake his way through."

Angel was silent, and Connor got a picture of him seriously considering that.

"No, I said we cannot do that," Spike repeated, confirming Connor's suspicions. "Besides, it's Friday. We'll have him back to normal by Monday morning."

Angel grunted in reply.

Since they were going to talk loudly outside his room anyway, Connor pulled himself out of bed and stretched.

"Are you up, Connor?" Angel called from across the hall.

"Yeah," Connor answered, hugging his arms across his chest when Angel appeared in the room a few seconds later.

"How did you sleep?" Angel asked.

"Okay," he replied.

"How do you feel?" Angel asked.

"Okay," Connor replied again.

"Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?" Angel asked.

"Okay," Connor said.

"I went out and got some stuff after you went to bed last night," Angel said, putting an arm around his shoulders and leading him toward the door. "Something besides cookies."

Connor shrugged. He didn't particularly care what it was, as long as he could eat it. Well, as long as it wasn't tomatoes.

"He's got a million text messages," Spike was saying from the front counter as they got downstairs. "Some of them asking why he wasn't in class yesterday."

"Really?" Angel asked. "Get the homework from them!"

"What?" Spike asked, giving him a skeptical look.

"Write them back and ask what homework he missed," Angel repeated.

"I don't know that I should 'write' them back, Angel," Spike said.

"If Connor has friends, they're gonna want to know he's alive," Angel insisted. "Write them back."

"Fine," Spike said, shrugging and getting to work.

"Here, pal, have some cereal," Angel said, producing a box from a cupboard and handing it to him.

"Is there milk?" Connor asked, and Angel's face fell.

"Damn it," he murmured. "I knew I was forgetting something important."

"It's okay," Connor said, ripping the top of the box open. "I'll eat it like this."

"No, I'll... I'll go get..." Angel trailed off, glancing forlornly toward the window and the sunlight.

"It's fine," Connor repeated quietly.

"I'll have Gunn run out and get you some," Angel said suddenly, heading toward the staircase.

"No!" Connor argued. "No! It's really okay." He didn't want Gunn doing him any favors. "I like it like this."

Angel grudgingly let him sit at the counter and eat dry Cheerios, but Connor could tell it was bothering him a lot. He rolled his eyes at the thought.

"Can I have my phone?" Connor asked Spike, who was texting away.

"What for?" Spike asked, his thumbs never pausing.

"I don't know," Connor answered, shrugging. "I just want it."

"In a minute," Spike answered distractedly. "I'm flirting with some girl for you."

"What?" Connor asked in alarm.

"Kidding," Spike said, smirking.

"Oh," Connor said with relief.

"Yeah," Spike said. "It's really some guy."

"What!" Connor exclaimed, grabbing for his phone, which Spike jerked away.

"Spike, quit aggravating him," Angel ordered. "He's only kidding, Connor."

Connor wasn't at all certain that Spike had been kidding, so he stood behind him and looked over his shoulder while he sent text messages.

"Stop crowding me," Spike said without even turning around.

"I just want to know what you're saying," Connor said defensively, crunching on some more Cheerios.

"Who are all these people, anyway?" Spike asked, as if Connor should know the answer. "You never tell me about them. Do you have friends that you're hiding from me? Are you ashamed of me?"

"I don't have any friends," Connor said seriously.

"That isn't true," Angel answered, though Connor figured he probably didn't really know that.

"Here, mate, I'm done," Spike said, tossing him the phone. "Just... Don't reply if someone messages you, all right? Not unless it's something you know you can safely answer."

Connor's phone buzzed and he read the message.

"Do I want to go out with Mark and Vanessa for coffee this weekend?" he asked Spike.

"You can't. You have other plans," Spike replied. "But you'll definitely take them up on it some other time."

Connor shrugged and typed that message—more or less—into the reply box.

"So, what am I in school for?" he asked Spike.

"You don't know for sure yet," Spike answered.

"You're going to be a doctor," Angel said, talking over him.

"I am?" Connor asked.

"You don't know yet," Spike repeated, while Angel gave an emphatic, "Yes."

"What are we doing today?" Connor asked.

"'We' are not doing anything," Angel replied from within his office. "Spike and I have a case. You're staying here and not stepping a foot outside this hotel."

"Am I grounded?" Connor asked with dismay.

"Well... no, pal," Angel answered after a moment. "You're not grounded. I just don't want anything to happen to you."

"What would happen to me?" Connor asked, rolling his eyes. "I can take care of myself!"

"I know you can take care of yourself in a fight," Angel answered proudly. "But that's not exactly what I'm worried about. What if you talk to someone on the street who knows you? And you don't know them? Or what if the person who did this to you—and I will find out who it was—finds you and tries something?"

"What makes you think they won't find me here? It's not exactly a secret where you stay," Connor pointed out.

"I just need you to stay put until tomorrow when Lorne can get here and hopefully tell us more."

"I don't want him touching me," Connor said contemptuously. "He's a demon!"

"Yeah, pal, I know he's a demon," Angel answered. "But he's not evil. We've been over this. And you are going to show him the utmost respect while he's here."

Connor snorted, and Angel gave him a warning look.

"It has green skin and red eyes," Connor said defensively. "How am I supposed to respect that?"

"Fake it," Angel answered shortly.

"Whatever," Connor mumbled. "I want to go out with you and Spike."

"No," Angel answered in a tone that suggested his patience had worn thin. "You're staying here. I'd love for you to look over some of your textbooks, but if they don't mean anything to you, you can watch TV in my room or something."

"Uh!" Spike protested for some reason. "Then I'm staying here with him!"

"You most certainly are not," Angel answered without even looking up.

"Are you grounded, too?" Connor asked sympathetically.

"No!" Spike replied disdainfully.

Connor shrugged and grabbed his box of cereal before heading back upstairs. He rummaged through his clothes until he found something besides pajamas. He gave his textbooks a perfunctory glance, but Angel was right—they didn't mean anything to him. He didn't recognize any of that stuff.

He pulled out his phone and ran through the contacts, but he didn't recognize any of the names except for Spike and Dad. He checked for games, and sure enough, he had some. He played something with little people in it until Spike and Angel sent up their goodbyes.

"If you leave this house, your dad's gonna thrash you within an inch of your life!" Spike called.

"Spike!" Angel hissed. "Don't tell him things like that! He'll think you mean it!"

"I mean it!" Spike called emphatically.

Connor heard what sounded like a short scuffle followed by an indignant "Ow!" from both parties. And they were supposed to be the adults. He rolled his eyes.

"Connor, we're leaving," Angel said. "Do you hear me?"

"Yeah," Connor said. "Bye."

"Do not leave this hotel," Angel reiterated. "But I won't beat you within an inch of your life if you do."

"It might be close, though!" Spike called. "Maybe two inches!"

There was another scuffle before the front doors slammed. Connor waited until he was sure they were gone and then got to his feet. He knew snooping was wrong, but the temptation was too strong. He crept silently into Angel's room and had a quick look around. On his dresser, Angel had a couple framed photos of the two of them together. Connor was smiling broadly in both of them. He picked one up and ran his finger along the edge of the frame, just thinking. How could they possibly have come to this point? This point of looking … happy?

Connor's phone, which he'd crammed into his front pocket, vibrated suddenly, and he dropped the frame and watched as it landed with a sickening crack on the hard edge of Angel's dresser before falling to the floor. The phone kept buzzing, so he pulled it out and looked at it. The screen urgently proclaimed that Dad was calling, and Connor felt sick. He wondered how Angel had known what he was doing so fast. He stepped out of the room and into the hallway before answering, just in case the vampire could somehow hear which room he was speaking from.

"Hello?" he said tentatively, trying his best not to sound guilty.

"Hey, son," an unfamiliar voice said.

"Hey," Connor returned uncertainly.

"You were supposed to meet us at 7, but you're not here," the man said.

"I was?" Connor asked.

"Yeah. You coming, or what?"

"I think you have the wrong number," Connor said slowly.

"Very funny, Connor," the man said. "Now are you going to get out here and meet us, or are you going to make your mother upset?"

"My mother?" Connor asked, his heart skipping a beat.

"Yes. You've not been calling her nearly enough lately, and you know it. If you miss this dinner..."

"I'll be there," Connor answered on a whim. "Where uh... Where were we meeting again?"

The man gave what sounded like an exasperated sigh before answering.

"Lakeland," he reminded him. "Hurry up."

"I'm on my way," Connor answered, closing his phone.

Connor threw on what he hoped was more appropriate attire for this restaurant. His brain screamed that this whole thing was a bad idea, that he should have just ignored the call. But he hadn't, and now he felt a weird sense of anticipation, like he was about to learn something about his life that Angel hadn't wanted him to know.

He knew where the Lakeland restaurant was, but he'd never been there. Once inside, he glanced around nervously waiting for someone to look like they recognized him. Finally a young girl raised her arm in the air and waved at him to come over. He slowly approached the table, where the girl and a middle-aged man and woman stared back at him expectantly.

"Dork," the girl finally muttered.

"Um... Hello," he said cautiously.

"Honey, move over and let your brother sit down," the woman instructed.

"Why does he have to sit on my side?" she asked snottily.

"Because there isn't room on this side, Abby," the woman said patiently.

"Fine," the girl said, sighing dramatically as she made a big show of sliding over in the booth. "But if I want up, you have to move immediately."

"Okay," Connor agreed as he sat down. He stayed as close to the edge of the seat as he could.

"We already ordered for you," the man informed him. "Since you were late, I guess you're just going to have to eat what comes."

"Okay," Connor said, shrugging.

"Don't shrug, honey. You know I hate that," the woman admonished.

"Sorry?" Connor said uncertainly.

"What would you like to drink?" the server asked when he suddenly appeared.

"Um... water," Connor said.

"Sweetheart, are you feeling okay?" the woman asked once the server had left.

"No," Connor answered truthfully. "I don't feel very well."

"Bet he's hungover," Abby announced. She gave him a haughty look. "You're gonna be in so much trouble now!"

"I'm not hungover," Connor found himself answering. He wasn't sure why, but he felt an intense need to argue with this girl.

"Well, if you need chicken soup, you just say the word," the woman told him, reaching over and touching the back of her hand to his forehead. It took everything he had, but Connor didn't flinch away from the touch. "You're a little warm."

Connor didn't feel especially sick anymore and figured he was probably warm because his heart was about to pound its way out of his chest.

"What'd you order me to eat?" he asked the man, just so he'd have something to say.

"Bruschetta," the man answered immediately. "You know, with lots of tomatoes."

Connor wasn't about to complain, but he couldn't stop himself from making a face.

"He's only kidding," the woman said, smacking the man lightly on the arm. "Don't tease him, Laurence."

"Yeah, well, it would serve him right for being late," the man answered.

"Sorry," Connor offered, feeling bad that this man was upset with him.

"What were you doing that was so important that you couldn't remember to come eat with your family?" the man pressed.

"Nothing," Connor answered, and then realized that that probably wasn't the best answer.

"It's fine," the woman said, obviously trying to defuse the situation.

"I didn't want to come, either, but I had to," the girl muttered.

"Hush, sweetheart," the woman said.

"Am I adopted?" Connor suddenly and unexpectedly asked.

He hadn't intended for it to—he hadn't intended to say it at all—but the comment broke the tension and made everyone laugh. He sat there and grinned uncertainly until their food arrived a few moments later.

Connor's fettuccine didn't have any tomatoes on it, thank goodness, but he was so hungry that he thought he'd have probably eaten it even if it had. Those dry Cheerios couldn't quite compare to sauce-slathered pasta. He made it through the rest of dinner with a careful system of evading questions by either cramming food into his mouth as they were asked or by offering short, sarcastic replies. This family seemed to like those.

"Well, honey," the woman said as the last of their plates were being taken away. "I guess you can head on home now. I know you have studying to do."

Abby snorted, and Connor couldn't resist poking her in the ribs when her parents weren't looking.

"Do you want a ride home?" Laurence asked.

"To my apartment?" Connor said hopefully. "You uh... You'd take me there?"

"Of course, son," the man answered, laying money on the little tray to pay for dinner.

"Shotgun!" Abby said suddenly, and Connor gave her a curious look.

"Now, honey," her father chided. "You know the rules. You can't call shotgun until you're actually in sight of the vehicle."

"Don't encourage her, Laurence," the mother said.

"I am not sitting in the back with him," the girl informed them. "He smells funny."

"I do?" Connor asked with genuine concern.

"No, he does not," the girl's mother admonished. "You quit giving your brother a hard time. You almost never see him, and this is how you treat him when you do?"

"Fine, I'll sit with him," she said, letting out a long-suffering sigh.

Laurence ushered them all out of the restaurant and into his SUV. Connor started to panic a little, thinking maybe it wasn't such a great idea to get in the car with these people, but he did feel safe with them. He slid into the backseat next to Abby and put his seat belt on.

"Straight home?" Laurence asked, looking at him in the rear view mirror.

"Um... Yes, sir," Connor answered quietly. "Please."

"Look who's polite all of a sudden," the man chuckled, shaking his head.

"I'm always polite," Connor protested.

"Yeah, right," Abby muttered, staring out the window.

Connor fell silent and stared out his own window, determined to remember the path to his apartment. When they pulled up to the complex, he groaned inwardly because he couldn't remember the exact number where he lived. He considered asking these people, but they already thought he was behaving strangely, so he didn't.

"Thanks," he said, getting out of the SUV and hovering by the open door. "For dinner and for the ride home."

"No problem, sweetheart," the woman said, rolling down her window and motioning for him to come to her.

He shut the door and stood awkwardly by the passenger side window. The woman reached out and patted his arm affectionately.

"Can I have a kiss goodbye?" she prompted. "Or are you too old for that now?"

Connor leaned in and kissed her quickly on the cheek before pulling away, embarrassed. The man gave him a small smile and a wave as they drove off.

Connor let out a huge sigh of relief as soon as they were out of sight. He turned and stared up at the apartments. He was pretty sure he lived on the top floor of the two rows. It occurred to him that he didn't have a key, and he felt momentarily discouraged. A quick check of his wallet revealed one, however, and even luckier than that, it had the apartment number printed on it, too. Connor briefly thought to himself that that was fairly stupid—anyone could find that key and break into his apartment! He'd be getting a replacement key made as soon as possible.

He cautiously opened the door and peered into the dark living room. It was empty, so he went on in, locked the door behind him, and made himself at home. Now that he wasn't quite as disoriented, he decided to get a good look at the place. The first thing he did was go to his bedroom to clean up the vomit that he knew was by the bed, but to his astonishment, it was gone. Spike certainly didn't seem the type to go cleaning up other people's puke, but it must have been him. Connor would have to remember to thank him.

He looked around his room. It was messy, but not too bad, he thought. He had the same two photos of himself with Angel on his own dresser. A shiver of dread went through him when he remembered that he'd forgotten to fix—or hide—the broken frame at the Hyperion. In his haste to answer the phone, he hadn't even picked it up from the floor. He grabbed that photo from his own dresser, hoping to replace it later before Angel got home and noticed.

Connor wandered back out to the living room and noticed that his walls were decorated with photos of himself with the family he'd just met. Angel certainly had some explaining to do on that one.

He looked in the bathroom, and once he'd determined that he actually had soap and shampoo here, he decided to take a quick shower before going home—just in case Abby was right and he did smell funny. Connor went through the motions and suddenly found himself singing a song he didn't even recognize. The words slipped easily from his mouth, however, so he just let them continue.

The song and shower made him feel a lot better, and he decided he'd also throw on some fresh clothes before heading home. He wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped out of his small bathroom into the hallway, where he was promptly startled by two glowering vampires.

"What part of 'thrash,' 'inch,' and 'life' did you not understand, mate?" Spike asked angrily with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Get dressed," Angel said simply, turning around and walking into the kitchen.

Connor hurried to do so, because he wasn't sure Angel wouldn't just drag him out of there in nothing but a towel. Spike continued to stand rooted to the spot in the hallway, and Connor closed his bedroom door so he wouldn't feel like he was being gawked at. He considered climbing out the window and—please, who was he kidding? He rolled his eyes at his own thoughts and changed into clean clothes as quickly as he could.

When Connor emerged from his bedroom, Spike was still in the hallway, and Angel was still in the kitchen. All the kitchen drawers were open like they'd been rifled through, and Connor finally noticed that Angel held a flat wooden spatula in his hand, the kind that had no slots. Connor's stomach did a full flop as he realized what Angel probably intended to do with it.

"Are you gonna make a grilled cheese?" he asked weakly.

"This belongs to me now," Angel informed him, pointing the wooden turner at him ominously. "Get in the car."

"Can I just grab—" Connor started, but Angel cut him off.

"No. Get in the car."

"But I just wanted to get my—" Connor started again, and Angel strode purposefully toward him.

If Connor had any doubts about what Angel planned to do with his spatula, they were dispelled as it smacked hard against the backs of his legs. He yelped and moved out of the way, but at least he didn't burst into tears this time. He glanced at Spike in red-faced misery before he headed straight out the door and down to Angel's car.

Forget getting a new key. He was changing the locks.


	32. Chapter 32

_There is some language of the bad variety in this chapter._

* * *

In the car, Connor made a single plea to try and save his ass.

"I had to. Please just let me explain," he attempted, but Angel held up a hand to silence him, and he sank as far down as he could into the cushion of the backseat. Angel didn't have a reflection, of course, but Connor could tell that he was eying him from the rear view mirror, and it made him nervous.

At the Hyperion, Angel reached right into the back of the convertible and lifted Connor out by his arms. He became concerned that he'd start whaling on him right there in the street, but he just pulled him along into the hotel at a pace that was too quick for Connor's liking.

"I had to, Angel! I had to!" he tried again as they neared Angel's room. He dug his heels into the carpet to try and slow the vampire down, but it didn't do any good. Angel didn't even seem to notice as he easily dragged him along.

Angel shut the door behind them and marched Connor straight over to the bed and forced him to sit down.

"I told you not to leave," he said, his voice deceptively calm. "And I also told you what would happen if you did."

"I had to, though!" Connor said urgently. He didn't want Angel to think he was a coward, but he really didn't want to be thrashed within an inch or two of his life, either.

"You did not either _have_ to," Angel said sternly. "All you _had _to do was keep your ass at this hotel like I asked you to do."

"Please just let me talk!" Connor said.

"You can talk after I paddle your little butt," Angel informed him, reaching into his coat and pulling out the wooden spatula.

"No, don't," Connor pleaded, feeling his face and neck turn beet red. What was a beet? He didn't know, but the phrase sounded especially appropriate for the situation.

"Stand up," Angel ordered, and Connor did. "Get your pants down."

"What?" he asked, balking. "No!"

Connor felt that, despite his protests, he had been more or less prepared to get pounded on, but not without the protection of his pants. He barely even knew Angel! What gave him the right to go making demands like that? No way did he plan to acquiesce to the request.

"'No' is not a word that you want to be saying to me right now, young man," Angel said grimly. "Get your pants down or I promise you I will do it for you."

"No!" Connor repeated defiantly, heading toward the door. "This is crazy! You can't make me!"

Angel grabbed him by the back of his collar and jerked him to his side, reaching for the fly of his jeans.

"No!" Connor protested, slapping at his hands. "Stop it! You can't make me do this! This is wrong!"

Angel replied to that by smacking him hard on the front of his left thigh.

"Ow!" Connor practically screamed, though he knew it was kind of out of proportion to the smack he'd just received. "Let me go, you goddamn demon!"

Angel looked quite taken aback, but only for a moment. He hauled Connor back to the bed, where he sat and held him face down across his knees before jerking his jeans down easily. Connor started to kick in protest but quickly realized that would only make his pants disappear further down his legs, so he concentrated on trying to get up. Angel tipped him further forward, though, and he had to use both hands to brace himself against the floor so that he wouldn't fall face first into it.

"I've had it, Connor," Angel said, wasting no time in bringing that awful spatula down on his underwear with an impressively loud crack. "If I tell you you're getting a spanking, you'd better believe you're getting one. I'm your father—how dare you tell me no!"

"Okay!" Connor yelled. "Okay!"

Angel laid into him incredibly hard for the first few swats, but he seemed to lose some of the zeal and eased up—slightly—when Connor stopped struggling. No matter how much he didn't want them to, tears began to roll down Connor's flushed cheeks. It really pissed him off.

"I told you to stay here, Connor," Angel said firmly, whacking at a steady pace. "Why did you disobey me?"

"The phone rang and it said it was Dad and I answered it because I thought it was you!" Connor blubbered, picking up one hand and then the other from the floor to try and swipe the tears from his eyes. "But it wasn't you, and he said I was supposed to be having dinner with them right then."

Angel stopped hitting him for a moment, and Connor tried to push himself up.

"No," Angel said, holding him there with a hand on the small of his back.

"Please!" Connor tried, but Angel ignored it.

"You went and had dinner with the Reillys?" Angel asked incredulously.

"Well, what was I _supposed_ to do?" Connor asked tearfully. "He's apparently my father, too—was I supposed to tell _him_ no?"

"You were supposed to stay here," Angel reminded him, emphasizing it with more hard smacks.

"Owww!" Connor wailed. "Ow, Dad, come on!"

"I trusted you to do as I asked, Connor," Angel continued, spanking him in earnest again. "I could have asked Gunn to stay here and babysit you, but I didn't do that because I thought you were grown up enough to listen to me."

"I'm sorry!" Connor offered desperately. "I'm sorry, Dad. Please!"

"You should have just called me," Angel said. "Or even Spike for that matter."

"I didn't have your number in my phone!" Connor wailed, even though he knew he'd had no intention of calling him anyway.

"You didn't?" Angel asked, pausing. "Why not?"

"How should I know!" Connor yelled incredulously, trying to wiggle away.

"You be still," Angel said, tugging his pants further down his legs and giving his thighs a thorough dose of the spatula.

"No!" Connor protested. "Not there!"

"You keep telling me what I can and cannot do, and these—" Angel snapped the elastic waistband of his boxer shorts, "—will be coming down. Got it?"

"Nooo," Connor moaned miserably. "How can I possibly like you? You may not be evil, but you're mean!"

Angel was so caught off guard by the offhand comment that he actually stopped spanking and pulled Connor to his feet, pinning him between his knees.

"I love you very much, Connor," Angel said, shaking him slightly. "Even when you frustrate me to no end and I have to wear you out, I still love you."

"Okay," Connor sniffled, looking everywhere but at Angel's face.

Angel got to his feet, pulled Connor's underwear down in the back and gave his bare bottom two token smacks before replacing the boxers.

"What'd you do that for?" Connor demanded hotly, yanking his jeans back into place. "You already got your point across!"

"So you'll know I can," Angel answered simply. "And this is an excellent spatula, by the way."

Connor wiped his eyes on his sleeve and gave Angel the most hateful glower he could muster, but it must not have been too effective, because Angel smiled at him and pulled him in for a hug. Connor started to relax, but then Angel took him by the arm and marched him over to a corner of the room, swatting him every step of the way.

"You just put your nose in that corner and think about how much this goddamn demon loves you."

Connor cringed. He'd hoped Angel had forgotten about that. But Angel never seemed to forget anything.

"Sorry," he mumbled into the corner while sadly holding onto his burning bottom.

"Did you kill the boy?" Spike called through the closed door. "Angel, you better not have killed him!"

"Go away," Angel said irritably.

"No. You let me see him right now," Spike insisted.

"I don't think he wants you to see him right now," Angel said, and Connor could hear the smirk in his voice.

"It's okay," Connor mumbled. "He can come in if he wants."

"Right, then," Spike said, opening the door.

Connor glanced at him over his shoulder but quickly put his face back in the corner when Angel cleared his throat.

"All right, mate?" Spike asked.

"I got _punished_," he answered with a certain amount of incredulous disgust, his breath hitching. "And it hurt a lot."

"Yeah, well," Spike said uncomfortably, plopping down on Angel's bed. "I told you that was going to happen, now didn't I?"

"Yeah," Connor grumbled.

"Leave him alone, Spike," Angel said mildly. "And get your shoes off my bed."

Connor could sense that Angel was walking toward his dresser, and his heartbeat picked up.

"Photo must have fallen off," Angel murmured, and Connor burst into tears again.

"I did it," he admitted mournfully, spinning around in the corner and pressing his back against the wall. "I broke it."

"Why?" Angel asked in surprise.

"Not on purpose!" he clarified. "I just wanted to look at it, and it fell. I tried to get mine from my apartment to give to you, but you wouldn't let me!"

Connor hoped that would make Angel feel at least slightly bad about punishing him, but it didn't seem to. Angel walked toward him.

"No!" Connor said in alarm, shaking his head. "No! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to break it. I know I shouldn't have been in your room but it was an accident!"

"It's all right, pal," Angel said gently. "You're not in trouble. Well, in _more_ trouble."

Angel pulled him out of the corner and into an embrace, but Connor continued to shield his backside with his hands just in case.

"I guess we need to talk," Angel murmured to the top of Connor's head. "You probably have some questions."

"Q and A time is gonna have to wait, gentlemen," Spike announced, looking out the window with a frown. "We've got company."


	33. Chapter 33

Connor sniffed and frantically wiped at his eyes and nose. Of course they would have visitors right after he'd gotten his ass beat.

"Eve," Angel growled with venom.

"Who's Eve?" Connor asked, joining them at the window to have a look, but Angel pulled him back.

"What do you reckon she wants?" Spike asked.

"Me," Angel replied simply.

"Oh, right," Spike murmured thoughtfully. "You and her did have that shag..."

"That's not what I meant!" Angel spat. "Come on."

Angel headed for the door with Spike on his heels. Connor stood uncertainly in the center of the room, unsure if he was supposed to follow or … stand in a corner … or what.

"Connor!" Angel called, and Connor raced down the stairs to join them.

"What do you want, Eve?" Angel asked through clenched teeth.

"Well, what I want is Lindsey back," the petite woman on the landing said. "But I guess you're more about the taketh away and less about the giveth, huh?"

When Angel only glared at her, she continued.

"I might have a little info for you," she said coyly.

"And why should I believe anything you have to say?" Angel asked tightly. "And more importantly, what could you possibly have to say that I'd care about?"

"That Connor?" she asked, nodding toward him. "Or should I say Stephen?"

Spike took a threatening step toward her, and Eve held up her hands and laughed. Connor thought she must be crazy.

"Easy there … big … guy," she said, looking Spike up and down. "Just came to talk."

"Start talkin' then, or get out," Spike said.

"Ooh, Papa lets the kids do his talking for him these days, does he?" she asked with delight.

"What he said," Angel said.

"Word on the street is," Eve started, leaning on the banister and running her fingers across the top of it, "the kid's had a little relapse. Gee, I bet you wish you could get your hands on the person who did that."

Angel was on her before Connor even saw him move, holding her by her throat against the wall.

"Not me!" Eve choked out, her eyes wide. "Not me!"

Angel put her down, but he didn't remove his hand from her throat.

"What do you know, Eve?" he demanded. "And you'd better not be wasting my time."

"The name Haley ring any bells?" she asked smugly.

The three of them just stared at her.

"Oh," she said, clearly disappointed. "Really? Nothing?"

Angel lifted her off the floor again, and she flailed her legs wildly.

"Okay, okay!"

He put her back down.

"One of Connor's little girlfriends," she informed them, clutching at her throat, which Angel still held. "I hear he's quite the ladies' man. Must have been all that cougar training."

"I will end you, Eve," Angel threatened, leaning in close to her face. "Don't think I won't."

"You killing defenseless little girls now, too?" she asked with hatred. "Instead of just defenseless little boys?"

"Where can we find this girl?" Angel demanded.

"Why should I tell you that?" Eve asked, scoffing. "You haven't exactly been hospitable."

Angel reluctantly released her throat, which she rubbed dramatically, but he didn't back out of her personal space. Connor watched with bated breath to see what would happen. He had to be prepared in case the vampire really did try to harm this woman, who did appear to be rather defenseless as far as he could tell. Spike must have known what he was thinking, because he had a tight grip on his arm.

"Please," Angel said dryly. "Come in. Have a seat."

"Thank you," Eve said, smiling unpleasantly and pushing past him as if she herself were a six foot tall badass.

Spike pulled Connor out of her path as she made her way to the couch.

"What is she?" Connor couldn't help finally asking. "Is she a demon?"

"Be quiet, Connor," Angel said while Eve only laughed.

"Better be nice to the boy," Eve said. "He might banish you to the proverbial cornfield. Or, you know, the ocean."

The words made Connor wince. Spike put an arm around his shoulders and murmured into his ear.

"Why don't you and me go back upstairs for awhile."

"No," Connor protested mildly. "What if..."

"Nobody's gonna hurt anybody," Spike said, ushering him along. "Angel can take care of himself. Come on now."

Connor felt an unpleasant spasm of guilt run through him at the realization that he'd been more worried about the lady than about his father, so he reluctantly allowed Spike to lead him upstairs. For some reason, he'd assumed they would go back to Angel's room, but Spike took him to his instead and pointed him toward the bed.

"So, you live with Angel," Connor said unnecessarily. "How long?"

"Oh, a hundred years or so, on and off," Spike answered, smiling at Connor's surprise.

"How did you meet?"

"He's my grandsire," Spike said easily, plopping down on the bed beside him.

"Grandsire?" Connor asked, folding his legs up underneath him. "Is that like, vampire grandfather?"

"Yeah," Spike said. "Exactly. Angel hates it when I call him that, though. So, naturally, I do it at every opportunity."

"So who's your … vampire father, then?"

"Mother, actually. You've never met her," Spike answered. "And let's hope you don't."

Connor willingly let the subject drop with that. He leaned his head back against the wall and sighed, wishing he could hear what was going on downstairs.

"Angel wallop you hard?" Spike asked after a moment, and Connor thought he had some funny ideas about appropriate ways to fill conversational lulls.

"Yeah," he affirmed, blushing. "He took my pants down."

"That happens sometimes," Spike said, nodding.

"Do you … do you punish me, too?" Connor asked with sudden alarm. "Like he does?"

"Me? God no!" Spike exclaimed. "We're mates, you and me."

"Do you think it makes me weak that I cried?" Connor asked quietly. "I mean... just because he hit me?"

"No, I think it makes you sensible," Spike said, and he appeared to be sincere. "Your dad would have kept it up 'til he got a reaction."

"Does he do it a lot?" Connor asked worriedly.

"Only when he thinks you need it. So... yeah," Spike answered, smirking.

"When do you think he's gonna … wallop me … for putting him in the ocean?" Connor asked.

"Er... Mate," Spike said uncomfortably. "I mean, I don't know all the specifics or anythin', but I think that's long been settled between you."

Connor shrugged.

"Talk to him about it if it's bothering you," Spike suggested. "He may be a git, but if there's one thing he likes, it's talking."

"Okay," Connor said dully, tracing a pattern on the bedspread. "Is this a burn hole?"

"Long story," Spike said. "One I really don't feel like telling just now."

"I want to go back downstairs," Connor said.

"No, I think we should just stay here until Angel comes for us," Spike said.

"If they're talking about me, I should get to hear it," Connor remarked sullenly.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Spike asked. "But as it turns out, life ain't always fair. In fact, it almost never is."

Connor sighed again and pulled his legs into his chest. Spike talked. Connor pretended to listen while Spike pretended not to notice he wasn't. After a sheer eternity, Angel simultaneously knocked on the door and opened it.

"Yeah?" Spike asked. "Anything useful?"

"I wouldn't put you in the ocean again," Connor blurted out, and then blushed.

"Well... thanks, pal," Angel said, giving him a bemused smile. "I appreciate that."

"Well?" Spike demanded. "Did she say how to fix him?"

"Sort of," Angel said vaguely. "I'll need your help."

"I'm not broken," Connor murmured.

"Connor..." Angel started, and Connor snapped to attention, thinking he was being reprimanded for his comment, but that didn't appear to be the case. "You... I'm sure you remember Justine, right?"

"Oh," he said, his stomach clenching. "Yes."

"Well, pal, it seems like... I mean, if what Eve said is true—and don't think for a minute that you can trust her—it seems like maybe Justine had something to do with all this."

"How?" Connor asked. "And why?"

"Bullied a girl you know into slipping something in your drink while you were out."

"That's crazy. I don't drink," Connor said defensively.

"Yeah," Angel said dryly, eying Spike. "You didn't used to."

"You're not even blaming that one on me," Spike protested, his eyebrows so high they nearly touched his hairline. "That one's all yours. You're the one that made him Irish."

"But why?" Connor repeated.

"To get to me, I guess," Angel answered.

"But how is that..." Connor started, trailing off as he realized the implication.

"Yeah," Angel said gently.

"But... But I wasn't gonna try it again!" Connor said, his mouth going dry. "I wouldn't!"

Angel and Spike just looked at him sadly, and Connor felt suddenly overwhelmed. He bolted off Spike's bed and ran to his room, slamming the door and throwing himself face down onto his bed. Angel quickly appeared and sat down beside him, but Connor pulled a pillow over his head to drown out anything the vampire had to say.

"Don't be upset," Angel murmured softly, rubbing his back. "Everything's going to be all right."

"You don't believe me!" Connor accused tearfully. "You don't trust me. You think I'm gonna try something again."

"What?" Angel asked, alarmed. "No! No, Connor, I don't think that."

"You do!" Connor shouted, though it probably came out somewhat muffled because of the pillow. "But I don't care what you think! I know I screwed up, and I wouldn't do it again!"

"Connor, son, calm down," Angel pleaded, trying to pull the pillow off his head. "Come out of there and talk to me."

"No!" Connor shouted defiantly, and Angel unexpectedly smacked his bottom.

The smack startled him so much that he immediately scrambled from underneath the pillow and rolled onto his back before scooting into a sitting position. He wrapped his arms around his knees protectively and glowered at Angel.

"You didn't have to hit me again," he muttered, wiping at his eyes.

"It got your attention, didn't it?" Angel pointed out. "Now are you going to listen to me, or do you want to go back over my knee for the full treatment?"

Connor shook his head enthusiastically.

"No, you don't want to go over my knee, or no, you won't listen?" Angel asked, and Connor rolled his eyes.

"The first one," he murmured. "Obviously."

"Good," Angel said, sliding right up next to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Then you listen to me, young man. I love you more than anything in the world, and nothing anyone does is going to change that."

"Only this world?" Connor asked innocently, which made Angel laugh.

"All the worlds," he corrected. "Got it?"

"I hear you saying it," Connor said, sniffling. "But you shouldn't. Not after what I did. You can't mean it."

"Now you're telling me what I can and cannot mean?" Angel asked sternly. "I assure you that when I say something, I mean it."

Connor didn't know what to say to that, so he picked up his pillow and wedged it between his knees and his chin.

"What if I can't get well?" he asked softly. "What if I never remember all the stuff you say I forgot?"

"Then you'll still be my little boy," Angel said immediately. "We'll start over a hundred times if we have to."

"I'm not little," Connor protested. "I'm almost as tall as you are now."

"Yeah, I know," Angel said, ruffling his hair. "When did that happen, anyway?"

"I'm sneaky," Connor answered without thinking about it.

"You get that from your mother," Angel said good-naturedly.

The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes while Angel absently ran his fingers through Connor's hair. Eventually Connor got up the nerve to ask the question that had been bothering him since he'd first opened his eyes in that strange apartment.

"Dad?" he said timidly. "When... When are you gonna do it?"

"What do you mean?" Angel asked.

"When are you gonna punish me?" Connor asked.

"I already punished you," Angel said. "Remember? There was a wooden spatula involved... Kinda thought you'd remember that a little longer..."

"No," Connor mumbled. "Not for that. For the other thing. The... the ocean thing."

"What?" Angel asked, taken aback. "Connor, I'm not... Did I somehow give you the impression that I was going to punish you for that?"

"But you told me to leave," Connor said, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the bed. "You told me to leave, and now you're not making me, so..."

"So I need to do something to you?" Angel asked. "Is that what you're thinking?"

"Well, yeah," Connor said uncertainly. "I mean, aren't you... Don't you want to beat me for it?"

"No, Connor, I do not want to _beat_ you," Angel said, patting him on the shoulder. "Look, I know you feel bad, but you don't need to. I'm not mad, and I forgave you a long time ago."

"But—"

"I'll tell you what," Angel said, cutting him off. "If you still feel this way tomorrow night after we talk to Lorne, you come to me, and I'll turn you right over my knee and deal with it. Okay?"

"Can't you just do it now?" Connor asked sullenly.

"No," Angel said simply.

Connor sniffed in reply. He didn't really like the arrangement, and he felt like now he'd spend all night and most of the next day dreading it, but maybe he deserved to do that.

"Okay," he eventually agreed.

Angel hugged him tight and distracted him from all the dark thoughts rolling around in his brain by telling him a story from when he was a baby about how he'd thrown up all over Gunn. Connor found that pretty amusing, but he doubted that Gunn would agree.

"What'd you do to that lady?" Connor asked with dread once Angel had run out of story.

"Don't you worry about that," Angel said.

"Did you bite her?" Connor asked bluntly.

"What? No, I did not bite her," Angel snapped. "Sheesh."

"Sorry. I guess," Connor offered.

"Contrary to what you may have been told, I don't just go around biting people all the time," Angel informed him.

"Okay, I was just asking," Connor said hotly. "You don't have to bite my head off."

"Connor, I just told you—" Angel started before he fully realized it was an innocent figure of speech and not another accusation. He tousled Connor's hair again and pushed himself off the bed. "All right, pal. I've gotta go out for awhile."

"Where?" Connor asked. "I can come."

"No, you may not," Angel said crisply. "In fact, since you failed once to stay put this very night, I'm asking Gunn to stay here and watch you."

Connor groaned loudly, not even trying to disguise his feelings on the subject.

"Connor, look at me," Angel said sternly, tipping his chin up and locking eyes with him. "If you leave this hotel, or if you give Gunn any trouble at all, you're gonna be in for it. Understand?"

"What if it's just a little bit of trouble?" Connor asked, and he caught the grin on Angel's face before the vampire could completely wipe it away.

"_Any_ trouble," he repeated. "Got it?"

"I got it," Connor mumbled, looking away in defeat.

Angel disappeared out the door, and Connor watched until he could no longer hear his footsteps. He sighed loudly and dropped his head back onto his pillow, feeling so conflicted about everything. He still rather feared Angel, but he found that he no longer hated him. He wanted to be able to hate the vampire again. That was what Father would want, and he should honor Father. But as he lay there and made a conscious effort to muster up the hatred, he found it just wouldn't come like it used to. The vampire seemed more or less the same, so it must be Connor who had changed—like everyone kept telling him.

Noise in the lobby rousted him from his thoughts, and he left his room and crouched down at the top of the stairs to see who or what it might be. A bright yellow suit that could only contain Lorne struggled to get through the door. He had two overstuffed suitcases under one arm and a drink in his free hand. Connor briefly considered helping the demon, but... nah. He was early. Let him get his own crap in.


	34. Chapter 34

"Whatcha doin'?" Gunn asked as he appeared behind him. "Thinking about running off again?"

"No," Connor said, nodding toward the front entrance. "The demon's here."

"Lorne!" Gunn exclaimed, running down the stairs. "Lorne, man! You're early."

"Yeah, Chocolate Cheesecake," Lorne said happily. "A little help here?"

"Yeah, man, sure," Gunn said, relieving him of his suitcases. "You want your old room?"

"Is it halfway decent?" Lorne asked skeptically.

"Yeah, of course. I mean, I think it is... I don't know... I'll check."

Gunn rushed upstairs laden with Lorne's suitcases. He paused and gave Connor, who remained crouched on the stairway, a pointed look.

"What?" Connor asked.

"Go say hi," Gunn ordered. "And be nice."

"Do I have to?" he asked with a sigh.

"Is that lip you're giving me?" Gunn asked.

"No," Connor answered, shaking his head and getting to his feet. He figured Gunn had received the same message he had about _any trouble _and its consequences. "I'm going."

"Everybody better have all their parts when I get back down there," Gunn said just loudly enough for Connor to hear as he sauntered down the stairs.

"Hey, kiddo," Lorne said amicably without a trace of reservation.

"Hey," Connor said uncertainly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"How you feeling?" Lorne asked, making his way toward the front desk and taking up his old post beside the telephone as if he'd never left.

"Okay," Connor said.

"Somebody put a whammy on you, I heard," Lorne said, swirling the ice around in his glass.

"Yeah," Connor replied.

Gunn quickly reappeared, saving them from any further strained—from Connor's point of view, anyway—conversation.

"Okay, do you want me to call Angel?" he asked. "Let him know you're in?"

"No, not just yet," Lorne said quickly. "I've got some preparations to make. I need to read Junior here, if he'll let me. I need to make sure, but I'm betting we can put him back to normal."

Lorne held up a small leather pouch and shook it.

"What is it?" Connor asked suspiciously.

"Well, same thing more or less happened to the entire gang before, and a little bit of this on the tongue did the trick," Lorne explained. "Along with a little spell or two, of course."

"I'm not putting anything in my mouth," Connor protested, crossing his arms over his chest again. "Especially not something a demon brought in."

Gunn rolled his eyes and pulled Connor aside into Angel's office.

"Con, man, come on," he pleaded. "Don't be this way. Lorne's not evil. He's not gonna try to hurt you."

"As if he could," Connor scoffed.

"Connor," Gunn said warningly.

"He can read me, but that's it until my dad gets home," Connor said defiantly.

"Deal," Gunn said, smiling like he'd come out the winner of the argument.

He took Connor by one shoulder and propelled him back out the door toward Lorne, who still stood leaning nonchalantly on the front desk.

"He's gonna be good now," Gunn promised, and Connor felt the heat rise in his face.

"Come on, kid. Let's have a seat, shall we?" Lorne said, extending an arm as if to wrap it around his shoulders.

Connor stayed well out of arm's reach and walked to the round couch. Lorne had a seat facing him. He held out his empty glass toward Gunn.

"Say, Charles, would you happen to have..." he started.

"I'm on it," Gunn cut him off, taking the glass and disappearing with it.

Connor didn't at all like being alone with the Empath demon yet again, but he steeled his nerves and sat there rigidly waiting for instruction. Lorne looked him up and down and smiled slightly.

"What?" Connor couldn't help asking, but he tried to keep the contempt to a minimum.

"Nothing, kiddo," Lorne said. "Just remembering when you were a baby. You talked less then. Not a _lot_ less..."

Connor rolled his eyes.

"Can you sing something for me?" Lorne prompted. "Anything you want. Let's just hope you're better at it than your father."

"I don't know any songs," Connor said.

"Sure you do," Lorne said. "You've heard the radio. It won't even matter if you get the words wrong. Come on. First thing that pops into your mind. Anything will do."

Connor frowned while he thought about it. The only thing that came to mind was... But he couldn't sing that! That song had been ridiculous and embarrassing even when he'd been alone in the shower. He scowled.

"Here ya go," Gunn said as he returned with a fresh drink for the demon.

"Thanks, Charles. You're a keeper," Lorne said, holding the glass up in a mock toast.

"I can't," Connor mumbled.

"Yes, you can," Gunn said immediately. "Whatever it is, you can and will do it."

"Easy, big fella," Lorne said in what he seemed to hope was a calming voice. "We're just talking. And singing. Connor was about to sing a little tune for me."

"No, he wasn't," Connor remarked sullenly.

"Yes, he was," Gunn said pointedly, "unless he wants his tune to sound a lot like 'ow, ow, ow.'"

"You can't threaten me!" Connor defensively spat.

"I don't need to," Gunn said calmly. "All I gotta do is call Angel."

Connor scowled, knowing—and hating—that Gunn had won this time.

"Fine," he said. "I'll sing."

"Great!" Lorne exclaimed, his falsely chipper tone indicating that he intended to ignore all their bickering. "Let's hear it, cupcake."

With a grimace that he truly hoped indicated just how much he hated being made to do it, Connor mumbled out the first bits of the only song he could think of.

"She's got legs. And she knows how to use them," he intoned dryly. "Happy now?"

Lorne grinned and Gunn laughed outright, but Connor wasn't sure if he was angry about that or not.

"That's great, kiddo, but I need a little more of it," Lorne instructed. "Put some feeling into it this time."

Connor thought he had put a feeling into it—disgust. He rolled his eyes and sang the line again, this time adding a tiny hint of inflection as well as what he could remember of the next verse. At Lorne's nod of encouragement, he kept going and even made up a few words to supplement the few verses he actually knew. At last, Lorne held up a hand to end the torment.

"Yeah, our boy's in there," he announced, patting Connor awkwardly on the arm. "Buried underneath a whole lot of hatred and confusion, but he's there."

"So what?" Connor asked. "What happens now?"

"Now," Lorne said, standing and swirling the ice in his glass again, "we gather the troops and try to put things right. Gunn, do you think you could persuade the blue meanie to help?"

Connor didn't miss the look that Gunn gave Lorne, but Lorne apparently did, because he kept talking.

"We need as many people as we can get to channel the energy, and Illyria certainly has a lot of—"

"Lorne!" Gunn cut him off, nodding sharply toward the kitchen. "Can I have a word, please?"

Connor watched on, confused, as Gunn ushered Lorne into the kitchen and let the door close behind them. He shrugged even though there was no one there to see it and leaned his head back on the couch. It wasn't that late, not really, but he'd had a full night, what with his dinner with strangers and his run-in with Angel. He would close his eyes for just a moment...

"Let me go!" the woman screeched as they crashed through the lobby doors.

Connor leapt to his feet and immediately ran to the weapons case before he even turned to see what the commotion was all about. When he did, he saw Justine trussed up and being carried between Spike and Angel, who dropped her roughly into the floor at the foot of the steps.

"Can't we just gag her, Angel?" Spike asked tiredly. "I don't know how we even made it home with her bloody screaming every fifteen seconds."

Justine spat at Spike's feet. He took a step back and wrinkled his nose with distaste.

"Well, that wasn't very ladylike, now was it, pet?" he asked. "Someone ought to teach you some manners."

"Don't hurt her!" Connor suddenly interjected, though he wasn't even entirely sure he meant it.

"We're not going to hurt her," Angel said. "Yet."

"What _are_ we going to do with her, mate?" Spike asked quietly.

"Justine is going to tell us what she knows, and then we're going to let her go on her merry way," Angel said, staring down at her ominously.

"I hate you, you filthy, disgusting monster," Justine replied. "Rot in hell."

"Okay, Spike. Get the duct tape," Angel instructed.

"Yes!" Spike said excitedly, running upstairs.

Connor briefly wondered why the duct tape was upstairs, and did Spike keep it in his room, and why... But then he decided he didn't really want to know.

"Where's Gunn?" Angel asked.

"In the kitchen with the de... with Lorne, talking about me," Connor answered.

"Lorne's here?" Angel asked with surprise. "Already?"

"Yeah."

"Watch her," Angel said, pointing at Justine.

Connor shrugged and leaned on the round couch with one knee to peer down at her. He didn't know if he should apologize or speak at all, but she soon took the guesswork out of what she wanted from him.

"Stephen, come on," she coaxed in a whisper. "Untie me and we can get out of here, just you and me, like it was supposed to be."

"No," Connor said, frowning at her.

"Do you think this is what your father would have wanted?" she hissed angrily. "You living in a den of _vampires_?"

"Father's dead," Connor said tonelessly. "You helped with that. Remember?"

"That's just what they want you to believe," she insisted while struggling against her bonds. "Angelus killed Daniel."

"No," Connor said, shaking his head. "I know that isn't true."

"Why would I lie?" Justine asked. "I'm human!"

A short, derisive laugh was Connor's only reply to that.

Spike promptly returned, ripping off a long strip of duct tape as he walked.

"Been waitin' to do this all night," he said cheerily as he roughly slapped it across Justine's mouth. "Go on and try spittin' through that, love."

Justine shot him a look of pure hatred and attempted to utter some choice words, but they were hindered by the tape. The expression on her face made her feelings clear enough.

"Do we have to paint more symbols on the floor, though?" Angel was saying as the rest of the gang emerged from the kitchen. "We're starting to look disreputable."

"We'll get a new rug," Gunn offered helpfully. "Connor, help me move some of this stuff around so we'll have room."

"I'm not helping do magic," Connor said, offended.

"Connor, this is going to help you," Angel said. "Don't you want to get your memory back?"

Connor shrugged.

"I'm not helping do magic," he repeated more firmly. "It isn't right."

"You ain't right," Gunn muttered, motioning for Spike to help him with the furniture since Connor had refused.

"Fine, Connor," Angel said, his voice low. "I'm gonna give you this one, but when the time comes, you better sit your ass down and concentrate on getting better."

"Whatever," Connor murmured, folding his arms over his chest and watching as they moved various couches—and a furious Justine—all over the lobby.

Lorne cheerfully painted some pointy demonic symbol on the floor with some sort of pigment that smelled horrible. Angel lit candles and placed them all around it. Finally, everything seemed to be set up, and Lorne looked expectantly at Gunn.

"I'll get her," Gunn answered reluctantly as he went upstairs. "But when this goes wrong, don't go blaming me."

Lorne dimmed the lights and then steered Connor and Spike into their intended positions around the symbol while Angel unceremoniously—or _was_ it ceremoniously, considering it was technically a ceremony?—dragged Justine across the floor and planted her upright close to his own spot on the floor. Gunn slowly descended the stairs with someone following him. Connor peered up with curiosity. He hadn't heard or seen anyone unexpected in the Hyperion the past two days, but apparently this person had gotten in somehow.

When Fred's feet finally hit the floor of the lobby, she gave Connor a big smile and held her arms out for him to come to her. With tears streaming down his face, he went.

"Hi, sweetie!" she said gently, rubbing his shoulders. "I've missed you!"

"You're not mad?" Connor asked, hugging her tightly.

"I'm not mad," she assured him. "Cross my heart. Now you get yourself on over there and sit down, and we'll have you back to normal in a jiffy, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed, nodding and regaining his designated spot at the head of the foul-smelling symbol.

Fred stood directly across from him and offered him another dazzling smile before she joined hands with Gunn and Angel. Connor, Spike, and Lorne followed suit, and as soon as the circle had been completed, the flames of the candles sputtered ominously in the breeze that shouldn't have been in the lobby. Connor really hated magic.

Lorne began his incantation in what sounded like Latin, and the swirling wind picked up, blowing papers all around the lobby. Angel looked mildly distressed by that for a moment, but quickly returned his attention to the task at hand. A glowing orb of light slowly rose from the seemingly empty center of their circle.

The orb stole the flames from the candles before zipping pixie-like straight into Gunn's face, where it hovered only a second. It repeated this choppy action around the circle until it rested eye-level with Fred, who gazed at it indifferently before abruptly snatching at it with longing. As she did, her clothing changed... And her hair changed color...

"No!" Connor shouted frantically, trying to wrench his hand out of Spike's. "It's hurting her! It's hurting Fred! You have to stop it!"

"Connor, be still!" Angel hissed, while Lorne kept chanting.

"Don't you see?" he shouted incredulously. "Don't you even care? It's hurting her!"

"She's fine, Connor. Just be quiet and let Lorne finish," Angel insisted.

"No!" he cried, kicking at the extinguished candle nearest his feet.

"Connor, stop it," Angel scolded. "Just wait it out. You throw a tantrum now, and you're going to feel really embarrassed in a few minutes."

"The younger Angel expresses concern for my well-being," the now blue-haired Fred observed, her voice hard and cold. "This pleases me."

"Hush, pet," Spike murmured. "Focus on the light. Both of you."

Connor's smoldering eyes glared angrily at the glowing orb as Lorne finished the spell. Before he knew to resist, the green demon reached over and pried his mouth open, smearing a tiny dollop of sour paste onto his tongue. It tasted like candy, he thought before promptly passing out.


	35. Chapter 35

"Slap him!" Spike said. "Wake him up!"

"I'm trying!" Angel hissed, patting Connor's face gently.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, you're not going to hurt him!" Spike said. "Slap him hard! Here, let me do it."

"No!" Connor said, sitting bolt upright and throwing his arms defensively in front of his face. "No slapping will be necessary. Thanks, though."

"Connor!" Angel exclaimed. "Are you..."

"I'm awake," he said, rubbing at his eyes. "How long was I out?"

"Few minutes," Angel answered. "Do you... What's the last thing you remember?"

"You telling me to get out of your house," Connor deadpanned without hesitation, and Angel's face fell.

"I'm kidding, Dad!" he added quickly. "I'm kidding!"

"That isn't funny!" Angel informed him, smacking him lightly on the side of his leg.

"See, I told you it would work," Lorne said. "Even if he was knocked out."

"What all do you remember?" Angel asked. "And give me a straight answer this time."

"All of it, I think," Connor said tiredly. "Could I have some water?"

"Yeah, pal, of course," Angel said, getting to his feet and pulling Connor up with him.

As Connor rose, he caught a glimpse of a terrified, struggling figure in the floor and abruptly remembered that Justine had come for a visit.

"What are you gonna do with her?" he asked as Angel returned with his glass of water.

Spike reached down and set Justine on her feet before roughly ripping the tape off her mouth.

"Stephen!" she implored. "Don't let them hurt me!"

"That isn't my name anymore," Connor said uneasily. "But they, uh... They're not like you think. They're the good guys."

"Right," she said, her lip curling sinisterly. "That's why you're standing on a symbol drawn with the smeared remains of dead fish."

"Augh!" Connor exclaimed with disgust, taking a step back and kicking his shoes completely off and across the room. "Is _that_ what this is? Gross."

Angel shrugged nonchalantly.

"Your father would be ashamed of you," Justine accused reproachfully.

"Actually," Angel interjected, "his father couldn't be prouder of him."

Connor didn't know why, but that statement suddenly overwhelmed him, and he had to sit down. Lorne joined him and offered him his glass of alcohol. Connor nodded his thanks and downed it in one gulp.

"Lorne!" Angel scolded.

"What?" he asked defensively. "Kid looked like he needed a drink."

"The kid would like another, please," Connor tried, but Angel shook his head in a firm no.

Justine sighed loudly, apparently irritated at having been temporarily forgotten.

"Don't worry, sweet cheeks, we're not ignoring you," Lorne said.

"Why did you do this to my son?" Angel demanded from within Justine's personal space. "And who gave you the magic to do it?"

Justine smiled balefully and refused to answer.

"Start talking, or I'm about to get a whole lot more hands on," Angel threatened.

"You think I'm the only person in this city who wants to see you dead? For good?" she couldn't resist asking. She nodded toward the doors. "You can't walk three steps out there without running into someone you've crossed."

"Names, Justine," Angel said impatiently. "How do you know Eve? Did she put you up to this?"

"I don't know any Eve," Justine answered a little too enthusiastically for it to have been the truth.

Connor noticed Lorne stiffen and visibly pale before getting to his feet and leaving the room.

"What about that girlfriend of Connor's? What did you do to her?" Angel continued.

"I don't expect you'll be seeing her again any time soon," Justine answered.

"What'd you do to Haley?" Connor demanded icily. "Did you hurt her? Tell me. Now."

"Haley left town," Justine answered. "She's not coming back."

Connor felt his brow knit into a frown that had to be worthy of Angel himself. His mouth opened and closed for several seconds, but he was so furious that no sound would come out. Sure, Haley hadn't been the nicest girl—hell, she hadn't been nice at all, most of the time—but she didn't deserve to get mixed up in all of this because of him... No. No. This wasn't on him. This wasn't his fault. This was her fault.

"You ruin everyone's life!" Connor accused, his chest heaving with fury. "All of this is _your fault_! All of it!"

"Calm down, mate," Spike said quietly.

"No!" Connor shouted in Justine's face, his mind on the verge of emotional overload. "It's true! You think I don't know what you did? The reason I went to Quor-toth in the first place? I wish Father had never met you. He didn't love you! He used you, but you're too stupid to see that for what it is!"

"Daniel did love me!" she shot back, enraged. "You're the problem! You're the one he never loved. He only kept you alive to hate you, and I _hate _that he spent the last years of his life doing it! It's because of you that we couldn't be together!"

"I want her out of my life!" Connor continued angrily, directing his comments toward Angel now. "For good!"

"Connor," Angel said gently.

Lorne returned at that moment, having regained some of his normal hue and cheery demeanor.

"I can help with that," he said, twirling the little leather pouch in his hand.

"We're not going to kill her," Angel said quickly, and Lorne gave him a dirty look.

"The thing about the universe is," Lorne said after Angel looked sufficiently scolded, "it always wants to maintain a balance. Connor here got his memories back, so someone needs to lose hers to make up for it."

"Don't you touch me," Justine said hatefully.

"Believe me, sister, I don't want to," Lorne said disdainfully. "I've seen what's in your future..."

"What?" she asked with sudden alarm. "What's in my future?"

"Nothing," Lorne answered darkly. "Nothing at all."

With that, he gathered in his hand some of the powdery substance from the leather pouch and turned to Angel.

"You done with her?" he asked.

Angel grudgingly nodded.

"Wait!" Connor exclaimed. "We still don't know who she went to for help."

"She's not gonna tell us, Connor," Angel said tiredly.

At Justine's self-satisfied smirk, he added,

"And frankly, she's not worth torturing for the information."

The rest of the color drained from Justine's face.

"Good night, sweetheart," Lorne said, holding his hand up and blowing the powder straight into Justine's face.

The outrage registered on her face for mere seconds before her features smoothed and her body slumped to the floor.

"How much of her memory is she going to lose?" Connor asked with something vaguely akin to concern.

"Oh," Lorne said, laughing slightly. "I made all that up."

"You did?" Angel asked, sounding disappointed.

"Yeah. She'll be awake and fine in five or six hours. I mean, I'm good, but I'm not _that_ good."

"So," Spike said, clapping his hands together. "Who's gonna drive her far, far away and dump her in the woods?"

"Gunn!" Angel yelled up the stairs.


	36. Chapter 36

Connor just couldn't even deal with any more tonight. He stepped over Justine's slumbering form and gathered his shoes, which totally reeked, and sprinted up the stairs, almost knocking Gunn down in the process. He didn't bother to apologize. He headed straight to his old room and slammed the door behind him. He tossed his shoes into the shower and turned the water on them. Fish guts. Yuck.

After his tennis shoes were pretty much soaked through and probably ruined forever, he turned the water off and wandered back to his bedroom, stripping off his shirt as he walked, and stopped short at the sight of Angel.

"Oh!" he said, startled. "I... I mean, I guess I should've asked you first. If I could just stay the night. Sorry."

He stood there clutching his shirt self-consciously to his chest and staring awkwardly at the floor.

"Of course you can stay," Angel said. "Any time, for as long as you want. I've told you that a thousand times."

"I guess I have a listening problem," Connor said weakly, slumping down on his unmade bed and tossing his shirt into the chair beside it.

"You all right?" Angel asked tentatively.

He shrugged.

"Can... Can I hug you?" Angel asked.

"You don't need permission," Connor said.

Angel sat beside him and gathered him in a sideways embrace, resting his cheek on top of Connor's head.

"Do you think those things she said were true?" Connor asked after a moment.

"Almost certainly not," Angel answered immediately. "But which parts are you talking about?"

"About my... about Holtz," Connor clarified, hating even mentioning the name to Angel like that.

"Connor..." Angel said, rubbing his cool hand up and down Connor's bare arm like he was trying to warm up one or the other. "Did Holtz ever do anything to indicate that he hated you?"

"You mean besides killing himself after dumping me with a vampire?" Connor asked dourly. "No offense."

"None taken," Angel mumbled. "I think."

"I'm really tired, Dad," Connor said abruptly. "Can I maybe just go to sleep?"

"Sure," Angel said after giving him a silent once-over. "We'll talk tomorrow."

Connor nodded even though he wasn't entirely sure he'd feel like talking the next day, either. Or ever.

Angel kissed him on the head at least three times before finally getting up and heading toward the door.

"Hey," he said, pausing with his hand on the frame.

"Yeah?" Connor asked.

"Did you give Gunn any trouble?" he asked with what Connor hoped was only mock sternness.

"No, sir," he answered dutifully, unable to stop the nervous grin from forming on his face.

"Good boy," Angel answered, returning the grin before he left.

Connor rolled his eyes—after Angel had left, of course—and lay back on his pillow after switching off the lamp. He remembered everything, all right, and now all his old memories of Quor-toth and Holtz were fresh in his mind again. Great. That was just what he needed.

Other fresh worries crept up as he stared at the dark ceiling, adding to his anxiety. What had he missed at school that week? Had it been tests? If it had been tests, could he make them up? If he couldn't make them up, would Angel ground him? Because it totally hadn't been his fault that he'd lost his memory... He snorted and rolled his eyes at himself. Much more pressing issues at hand, and he's acting like a little kid, worrying about being grounded and already coming up with excuses to get out of it.

Haley. He should probably try to find her, but he probably wouldn't. He certainly understood feeling the need to get out of dodge. His mind wandered to that night at the bar. Seeing her there had been unexpected, but he'd been a bit intoxicated and not exactly thinking with his brain when she'd asked if they could get out of there and go to his place for awhile. Connor hadn't even introduced her to Spike. In fact, he'd sort of blown him off, which had obviously turned out to be a huge mistake. Spike was either mad, or he'd forgotten about it entirely—Connor could never tell with him.

After several unsatisfying tosses and turns that ended with him back in his initial position, Connor drifted into an uneasy sleep. It didn't last long. He couldn't have been asleep more than a few minutes before some inconsiderate jerk was jabbing him in the ribs.

"Wake up, I said," Spike hissed.

"Nrrmm," Connor murmured, pulling his pillow over his face.

"Wake up, or I'll start slapping," Spike threatened as he removed the pillow, and even in the dark Connor could feel the presence of a hand near his face.

"Le' me alone," Connor sighed. "Tired."

"You're making me tired with all that racket," Spike informed him.

"Huh?" Connor said, making a serious effort to wake himself up at least a little.

"You were having a nightmare, I think," Spike said. "Sobbing and moaning and carrying on. And you're sweating like crazy."

Spike reached out and flipped the lamp on. Connor protested with another incomprehensible murmur that hopefully conveyed his displeasure.

"What were you dreaming?" Spike asked.

"Dunno," Connor answered, though the tiniest effort to recall put the entire scene back in his mind.

He was back on the boat. Only this time, instead of welding Angel into the giant metal coffin, he and his dad were about to submerge Justine.

"You do know," Spike said accusingly. "I can see it in your eyes. Tell me."

"None of your business, Spike," Connor said irritably, reclaiming his pillow from Spike's hand. "Go away."

"Now is that any way to speak to your elders?" Spike asked. "I'll send your father in here to smack your bottom."

"He's not gonna smack me for telling you to go away," Connor huffed before he'd fully realized that Spike was almost certainly just teasing him. "Not when it's like, the only thing he ever says to you."

"Yeah, well, there's a phrase fathers like to throw around," Spike continued. "'Do as I say and not as I do.'"

"I'm pretty sure he'll give me permission to tell you to go away," Connor insisted groggily.

Instead of going away, Spike shoved Connor over and had a seat next to him.

"You all right?" he asked.

"I don't know," Connor answered truthfully, sliding up and resting his back on the headrest. "What are … What's going to happen to Justine?"

"Gunn's taking care of her," Spike replied. "Don't you worry about her. She won't be giving you any more trouble, I don't think."

"It's not that," Connor mumbled.

"It isn't?" Spike asked, peering at him.

Connor shook his head, unwilling to say more. Spike poked him in the ribs again.

"Ow!" he muttered. "Stop that."

"No," Spike said, repeating the action. "Not until you tell me what's on your mind."

"There's a lot on my mind," Connor said, slapping at Spike's pointy fingers.

"I'm not getting any older," he answered.

Connor sighed and threw the pillow back over his face before answering.

"I kinda wanted her to die," he admitted quietly, though he suspected Spike had no trouble discerning the words.

"I wouldn't feel too bad about that, if I were you," he replied immediately.

Connor shook his head, trying to hold back the tears that desperately wanted to make an appearance.

"If she deserves to die, then so do I," he finally said, losing the battle of wills with his own emotions and sobbing into the pillow on his face.

"Sorry, mate, but I'm not following your logic," Spike said, ignoring the tears.

"Angel should have killed me," Connor said sadly. "I thought he would."

Spike sighed dramatically and yanked Connor's pillow away, throwing it across the room.

"This again?" he asked.

Since he no longer had the comfort of his pillow, Connor sank down into the bed and flipped onto his stomach, burying his face in his arms. Spike patted him on the back.

"The way I figure, you've got the scorecard all wrong," he said. "Last I checked, you didn't cut a man's throat, kidnap an ugly, defenseless baby, or stab anyone in the neck with an ice pick."

Connor was too sad to fully appreciate that ugly comment and continued to cry into his arms.

"I've told you, your dad's not mad any—" Spike started, but was interrupted as the door swung open.

"Get out, Spike," Angel said grimly. "I'm gonna deal with it."

"What?" Spike asked in a tone that convinced Connor to lift his face from his arms.

"Get out," Angel repeated.

"Angel, you can't whip him right now," Spike said. "He doesn't feel good."

Connor wiped his arm across his nose and sat up to take stock of the situation. Sure enough, Angel—in shiny blue pajamas—held a doubled over belt in his hand.

"Dad, what—" he asked, his voice small.

Spike looked from Angel to Connor and back again before leaving the room without another word. Connor kind of wished he had stayed.

"Get your pants down," Angel said as he shut the door and locked it. "You're gettin' a whipping."

"What for?" Connor squeaked out in alarm, the shock of this new development halting his tears.

He reached out and grabbed his shirt, pulling it quickly over his head. It may have been backwards and inside out for all he knew—he just wanted something to make him feel a little less vulnerable.

"For dumping your father into the ocean," Angel answered.

Connor swallowed hard as he saw where Angel was coming from and what he was trying to do. He must have heard—hell, of _course_ he'd heard—everything he'd said to Spike.

"But Dad, you... You already punished me once today," Connor protested, not really sure what that had to do with anything, but trying it anyway.

"That was technically yesterday now," Angel said, glancing at the clock. "But I don't care if it was two minutes ago. I told you to get your pants down, and you're gonna do it."

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I'm tired of hearing how sorry you are," Angel said harshly, brandishing the belt at him. "After the strapping you're about to get, you won't have to feel sorry any more. We're taking care of this guilty conscience of yours once and for all."

"Dad, no," Connor said helplessly, but Angel wasn't having any of it.

He crossed the room and pulled him off the bed by his arm and had his pants at his knees in a matter of seconds.

"Please don't, Dad," Connor begged automatically, a little bit frightened by how angry Angel seemed.

Angel's reply was to push him down over the edge of the bed and gather both of his wrists at the small of his back. Connor felt horribly exposed already, but it only got worse when his father yanked his underwear down to join his jeans.

"Please, Dad," he tried again, squirming uncomfortably. "Please don't."

"I'm going to be hard on you," Angel promised. "You're going to accept that you are forgiven, and then you're going to forgive yourself. Understand?"

"Dad!" Connor pleaded hopelessly.

The first hellacious whack of the belt didn't disappoint. Angel seemed to know exactly where it would hurt the most and had aimed straight for that spot. Connor cried out in anguish and managed to pull both his hands out of Angel's grasp to cover his bottom, only to get them stung as the second lick followed. He hissed and quickly removed his hands, shaking them and blowing on his fingers in a futile attempt to stop them from throbbing.

"I'm not stopping for flailing limbs, so I suggest you stay still," Angel warned with the third fiery stripe, which landed right across the middle of Connor's thighs.

"Ow, Daddy, ow!" Connor exclaimed tearfully, burying his face in the comforter.

Angel seemed to like that reaction, because the next swat fell directly below the previous one. Connor kicked his legs furiously, but Angel didn't even slow down. The next lick caught him partially on the foot before continuing onward to sting his bottom, and he sucked in a breath and forced himself to plant both feet firmly on the floor. Just as Connor had mentally prepared himself for another vicious lick across the legs, the belt fell heavily across the center of his bottom. He arched his back, but he didn't dare try to get up.

Angel fell into a steady rhythm and soon had spanked every single inch from his ass to his knees, not bothering to lighten the swing on his tender legs. Connor cried sorrowfully into the blanket when he wasn't screaming shamelessly. It was by far the worst punishment Angel had ever given him, and he felt like he deserved each and every lick.

"You're a good person, Connor," Angel said gently—and in direct contrast to the pain he was inflicting. "You just made a mistake."

"I'm so sorry, Dad," Connor whispered in reply, having decided that he didn't even have the energy to holler anymore. "I'm so sorry I put you in the ocean. I'm sorry I didn't listen. I'm sorry I lied to Gunn and Fred and gave them such a hard time. I'm just sorry."

"What did I tell you?" Angel asked, continuing the punishment.

"You don't wanna hear it," Connor answered tearfully.

"That's right," Angel said. "You know what else I don't wanna hear? I don't ever want to hear you say you deserve to die. Not ever. If I even so much as see the thought cross your face, I will wear your ass out. I don't care how old you are. I don't care if we're standing in front of your grandchildren. Do you hear me?"

"Yes," Connor choked out. "Yes, I hear you."

"You don't need to be sorry for me, Connor," Angel said gently, giving up on the belt. Connor felt the bed dip down as his father sat beside him. "Three months in the ocean is nothing to me. Looking back on it, it's kinda funny."

Connor shook his head, refusing to move from his position over the bed. He buried his face in his arms and said hotly,

"How can you say that? It isn't funny. How could it possibly be funny?"

"It is," Angel insisted, reaching down and righting Connor's clothes.

He gave him a hard smack on the bottom and told him to sit up.

"No," Connor answered back.

That earned him another smack, but he still refused to move.

"I'm going to get my spatula," Angel said, standing. "If you're not sitting up when I get back, I'll give you another spankin' with it. Don't think I won't."

Connor reluctantly pulled himself together as soon as Angel had gone out the door. He rummaged through his bag and found some pajama pants and a clean t-shirt to put on and slid into his bed with his knees bent and his bare feet just underneath the covers. When Angel finally returned, he had hot chocolate, but he didn't have the spatula.

"You lied," Connor sniffled, taking the mug Angel offered him.

"Yeah, well," Angel said, pushing Connor's hair out of his eyes. "I knew you'd see reason."

Connor absently rubbed at the back of one thigh with his free hand.

"You're gonna have a few bruises," Angel said, almost apologetically.

Connor felt his face flush and shrugged, not having anything to add to that observation.

"Do you want a tissue?" Angel asked, and Connor nodded.

When Angel returned with that, Connor traded him his empty mug for it.

"Do you want some more cocoa?" Angel asked.

"No, Dad. Geez," he answered, dabbing at his puffy eyes and blowing his nose. "I'm all right now."

"Good," Angel said, setting the mug aside and sliding onto the bed beside Connor.

"You heard what I said to Spike," Connor commented, laying his head against Angel's chest.

"Yeah, pal. Sorry. Your old man can't help eavesdropping sometimes."

"I meant it," Connor said, hating himself. "I wanted her to die. What kind of person does that make me?"

"Normal," Angel answered, rubbing his hand up and down Connor's arm. "I tried to kill Wes after he took you away from me. He was lying there in the hospital bed with his throat cut, and I tried to finish him off. I would have, I think, if they hadn't pulled me off him."

"I'm glad you didn't," Connor offered.

"Me too, pal," Angel said softly.

"You didn't have to hit me so hard, though," Connor complained after a moment, shifting around uncomfortably and trying to take as much weight as he could off his behind.

"Yeah, I did," Angel said, kissing him on the side of the head. "Any less and you'd still be going on about how sorry you are."

"These pajamas are almost as bad as the whuppin'," Connor commented, plucking at a button on Angel's shirt.

"Laugh all you want, buddy," Angel said good-naturedly, hugging him tightly. "Tomorrow, you and Spike are gonna spend a large portion of the day cleaning cream of fish off of my floor. We'll see how funny you think that is."

"What?" Connor asked. "Why do we have to do it?"

Angel gave him a pointed look.

"Come on, Dad," Connor protested. "It's not like I asked for any of this to happen!"

"I'm not cleaning anything up!" Spike called from all the way down the hall. "It's his fault!"

"Stop listening to our conversation!" Angel called back crossly.

"I'm not!" Spike answered defensively, and then added to himself, "Damn it."

Connor shook his head and yawned. Angel looked at him like he thought it was cute. He tried to be offended, but he was just too tired.

"Dad?" Connor said. "I'm..."

"Yes?" Angel asked rather sharply, clearly thinking the next word out of his mouth was going to be "sorry."

"I'm glad you're my dad," Connor said instead.

"I love you, too, kid," Angel returned.

"Would you hand me my pillow on your way out?" he asked, sliding down on his stomach under the covers.

"Sure, pal," Angel said kindly.

Three seconds later, Connor felt the pillow smack him squarely on the side of the head. He crammed it underneath his chin and fell into the deepest sleep he'd had in months.


	37. Chapter 37

Connor hated fish. He never wanted to see fish again as long as he lived.

"Still don't see why I have to help," Spike muttered for the twelfth time as he wiped listlessly at the floor. "None of this was my fault."

"If you'd shut up and scrub harder, we would be done already," Connor admonished, using his forearm to wipe the sweat off his forehead and really, really hoping he hadn't just smeared fish guts onto his face. Spike totally wouldn't bother to tell him if he had.

"Yeah, but it's not fair," Spike whined, halting his cleaning all together. "This is literally zero percent my fault. And I'm having to help clean up your mess just because I happened to be out with you when you got yourself in a tight spot."

"Please shut up," Connor begged wearily. "I'll give you ten dollars to just shut up."

"Do I have to keep cleaning?" Spike asked.

"Yes."

"No dice, then."

"I want both of you to shut up," Angel declared from within his office. "And I'm seriously considering putting a time limit on this job, so get movin'."

"Oh, stuff it, Angel," Spike said irritably, pulling his pink rubber gloves back on with a snap and going at the floor with angry vigor. "Get off your high horse."

"Fine," Angel called. "One more hour, and if that floor's not passable, there'll be two very sorry little boys in the lobby."

"Great, now look what you've done," Connor whispered reproachfully as he dumped more of the most abrasive cleaner he had onto the floor.

He sat back on his heels for a moment and winced when everything hurt.

Spike chuckled, obviously not worried about Angel's threat in the least.

"It's not funny," Connor informed him. "Let him beat your ass a time or two and see how funny it is."

"I don't know," Spike said airily. "It's pretty funny hearing him beat yours."

Spike could be cruel when he was in a bad mood. Connor felt his face flush and clamped his mouth shut, scrubbing at the floor with renewed determination. Spike took the hint and followed suit.

An hour later, to the second, it felt like, Angel emerged from his office to evaluate their work. Connor fidgeted nervously, but Spike plopped down on the round couch and examined his fingernails as if he couldn't possibly care less what Angel thought. He probably couldn't.

"Wow," Angel said, nodding. "I'm impressed."

Connor let out a sigh of relief. Spike just snorted.

"You know," Angel said, glancing toward the couch. "That pentagram under the couch was sort of your fault, too..."

"What!" Connor exclaimed. "Not even! I was a baby!"

"I'm kidding," Angel said, looking disappointed. "But maybe the next time one of you gets in trouble..."

"Excuse me?" Spike asked indignantly. "I do not 'get in trouble' with you. I only helped your spawn clean that nasty mess up out of the kindness of my heart. Not 'cuz you 'made' me or anythin'."

Angel smirked, and Spike looked away.

"Get all these cleaning supplies put away, wash up, and start on your homework," Angel directed.

"Yes, sir," Connor grumbled.

"Oh, but what about me, Grandfather?" Spike asked with mock enthusiasm. "What more can I do to please you?"

"I was gonna tell you the location of your television today," Angel said. "But I guess if you're going to have this attitude about things..."

"No!" Spike said, standing at attention. "No, Angel. I'm sorry. Please give it back."

"Fine," Angel said, smiling smugly. "I pawned it."

"You what?" Spike asked incredulously.

"Yep," Angel said, fishing around in his pocket until he came up with a small slip of paper. "Here's the ticket. For only... fifty-eight dollars, the nice man at this address will give it back to you. If he hasn't sold it already, that is."

"Angel, you sodding... stupid... piece of... no good... rotten... blast... bloody..."

Angel laughed and tossed the paper to him.

"Better hurry," he advised.

"I hate you," Spike huffed, crumpling the paper angrily in his hand. "I mean it."

Connor rather thought he did mean it in that moment. He watched silently as Spike pulled what money he had out of his jeans pockets. From the look on his face, the results weren't good.

"Er... Angel..." he said sheepishly. "Can I borrow thirty dollars?"

"Absolutely not," Angel said, turning and walking back toward his office.

"Come on, Angel, please!" Spike called, following him. "I'll give it back!"

"Yeah, right," Angel murmured. "Heard that before."

"I will!" he insisted. "Can't you... Can't you just wallop me or something?"

That unexpected question caused Connor to drop the paper towels in his hand. He watched, dismayed, as they bounced and unrolled across the still wet floor and made a new mess to clean up.

"No," Angel said. "You already made your choice."

"Can't I change my choice, then?" Spike asked. "Come on. I know you love to pound on me. It'll be a win-win situation."

"True as that may be," Angel said, "the answer is still no."

"Connor," Spike said, emerging from Angel's office.

"I don't have thirty dollars," Connor answered immediately, keeping his eyes trained on the soggy paper towels.

"You both … just … suck!" Spike said hotly, throwing his arms in the air before dramatically mounting the stairs.

Connor heard his bedroom door slam a few seconds later.

"Wow," he murmured.

"I know," Angel said, leaning against the door frame. "Funny, wasn't it?"

"You do realize he's upstairs plotting your demise right now?" Connor asked.

Angel rolled his eyes.

"I already left the money on his bed," he admitted.

"You did?" Connor asked, frowning but trying hard not to. "I think you might be nicer to him than you are to me."

"Is that so?" Angel asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Well, I just mean..." Connor said uncomfortably, quickly shoving the rest of the aerosol sprays and brushes into his carrying basket. "I didn't mean anything by it, Dad. Never mind."

"You're a git, Angel!" Spike suddenly called down the stairs.

"You're welcome!" Angel replied.

"You think I would have spanked the daylights out of you _and_ made you buy your own TV back," Angel stated.

Connor shrugged.

"Of course I would have," Angel confirmed.

"Gee, thanks," Connor said sarcastically as he stashed the cleaning supplies into the janitorial closet.

"You're my son," Angel stated, as if that cleared everything up. "It's my job to make sure that you learn from your mistakes."

"Spike can't learn?" Connor asked with a wry smile.

"Hasn't yet," Angel said good-naturedly.

"Can I use your shower?" Connor asked. "It's just that I sorta don't have any soap." He looked down at his arms. "And I think I really, really need some today."

"Oh!" Angel exclaimed. "Of course you can. I didn't even think about that. Why didn't you say something before?"

Connor shrugged, unable to voice the fact that asking Angel for _anything_ made him nervous and uncomfortable, especially when he was … incapacitated. Angel didn't push the issue, though, and let him go on his way.

Connor got some clean clothes out of his room before continuing toward his dad's. He passed Lorne's room on the way and paused in front of the open door.

"Hey there, sugar-free cupcake," Lorne said from his desk without looking up. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah," Connor said. "Thanks, Lorne. For what you did. For coming here and everything."

"Hey, you are very welcome," Lorne replied.

"I'm sorry if I wasn't nice to you while I was... while I wasn't quite myself," Connor said.

"No, you were actually rather pleasant to me," Lorne argued. "I hear you were quite a handful for the others, though—demanding cookies for dinner. That sort of thing."

"Yeah," Connor said, grinning. "And listen... My dad really appreciates that you came. I know how he is, so I don't know if he'll tell you, but it means a lot to him."

"Thanks, kiddo," Lorne said, finally glancing up from whatever he was writing.

Connor nodded and continued down the hall toward that sweet, sweet shower.


	38. Chapter 38

Angel finally let him go home to his apartment Sunday afternoon, but not until he had submitted to rigorous physical and mental testing. Even then his father seemed reluctant to let him leave, but he did so after Connor made sure to mention several times how much he was looking forward to school in the morning.

A weekend at the Hyperion seemed to do about a month's worth of damage to his life and schedule, and there was so much he needed to do. He made several phone calls, both to get homework and reading assignments and to assure his friends that he had not died in a ditch somewhere. After staring at the screen for several minutes, he even dialed Haley, half hoping that she would answer and half hoping that she wouldn't. Unsatisfied with the "The number you have dialed is no longer in service" message that he received after his first attempt to reach her, he tried again. And again. Each time yielded the same result. She was gone.

He kicked himself for not stopping at the grocery store on the way home, because the cupboards were almost literally bare, and the refrigerator smelled funny. Luckily, his mother happened to call and invite him to dinner as he was staring hard at cold leftover... somethings. Dinner with the family was nice—much nicer than the food poisoning that he likely would have incurred from pretty much anything in his own fridge—and if he'd behaved strangely the last time they had seen him, no one mentioned it.

After dinner, he took a bus home, but he regretted it. The ride was uncomfortable, not only due to the unpleasant looking woman who kept eyeballing him, but also because, well, his ass still kinda hurt.

Angel had spanked him hard, and while he didn't really harbor any resentment toward him for it, he didn't exactly think it had been fair or necessary, either. His father was a good man, but he had some odd notions about how to fix things between them. He could whack him as hard as he wanted, but it wasn't going to make everything Connor had been through—everything he had _done_, everything he had _caused—_go away. That was a fact that, for now at least, he intended to keep to himself.

After his nightly rituals—showering, brushing his teeth, browsing the internet for an ungodly amount of time—Connor finally collapsed onto his wonderful, comfortable, welcoming bed, where he wept until he fell asleep.

* * *

"Ah, Mr. Reilly, so glad to see you decided to join us today," Professor Harding intoned dryly as he passed by her desk.

The rest of the students laughed. Bastards. Like they never missed a class.

"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled, fully embarrassed by the attention drawn to him.

"I expect you'll want to make up Friday's quiz," she said, a frown stretching the corners of her mouth.

He just stared at her helplessly, unsure if an answer was expected or not.

"Oh, all right," she said, and after a long-suffering sigh, passed a sheet of paper up the rows to him. "It was open-book anyway. Let's hope you brought your book."

More giggles from the heartless monsters posing as his classmates.

"If you can get that done by the end of class, I'll take it," she clarified. "Otherwise, forget it."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, flipping through the pages of his British literature textbook with reckless abandon.

"Same goes for the rest of you," she informed the class, and Connor was relieved to see more than a few guilty parties join him in the frantic search for names, dates, and quotes.

As it turned out, besides that quiz, he hadn't missed all that much by losing out on two days of classes. Had he been a more cynical person, he might have criticized the quality of the education he and his parents were paying for, but as things went, he merely considered himself lucky.

A cute girl in Financial Accounting and Reporting even offered to lend him her notes, which he gratefully accepted. Later, as he reviewed—i.e., shamelessly copied them—he noticed that she'd made sure to write her phone number at the top of one of the pages, "just in case you have any questions." Connor thought he was rather done with cute girls for awhile—they were dangerous—but he entered her number into his contacts anyway... just in case.

For a full five business days, things seemed normal. That was good. Connor could use a little bit of normality. Spike didn't pester him to go out—in fact, Connor wondered if Spike would _ever_ pester him to go out again after what had happened the last time—and Angel didn't get on his case about school or anything else. The more Connor thought about it, though, the more abnormal that all seemed. He _wanted_ Spike to make him go out for a good time. He even—sorta—wanted Angel to get on his case... but just a little.

Friday night mercifully arrived, and almost before he realized his intentions, Connor found himself standing outside the front doors of the Hyperion. Unburdened by any taxing obligations such as, say, romantic dates, he thought he just might take it upon himself to initiate a little fun. Angel wouldn't want to come out, of course, but he could be dragged.

"Dad?" he called as he pushed the doors open. "Dad? Spike? Anybody home?"

Receiving no answer, Connor walked to Angel's office, but no one was there, either. On a whim, he sat down in his dad's chair and spun around in a full circle. If his dad was going to be this lax on security, he deserved to have his furniture played on.

"What are you doing?" Illyria asked curiously just as he'd begun his second spin, startling him so much that he nearly leapt from the chair.

"I was... nothing," he answered guiltily, even though he knew Illyria couldn't care less about the joys of chair spinning.

"You seek your father and my pet," she observed. "They are not here."

"Oh," Connor said, frowning. "Do you know where they are?"

"I do," she answered.

Connor looked at her expectantly. She gazed back unfazed.

"Um," he finally said. "Could you maybe tell me where they went?"

"No," she answered simply, continuing to peer directly into his eyes.

"No?" he repeated. "Okay... Any particular reason why not?"

"Angel instructed me to tell no one of their whereabouts," she clarified.

"Oh," Connor said, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm sure that didn't include me."

"Especially Connor," she added.

"What?" Connor answered, a little bit offended. "What do you mean, 'especially Connor?' Why especially Connor?"

"Angel is the leader. I do not question his orders," Illyria said coolly.

"Since when?" Connor scoffed.

"You, however, are not the leader," Illyria informed him. "And as I do not answer to you, I shall take my leave."

Connor watched, open-mouthed, as she turned and grumpily stalked straight out the front entrance. Geez. Illyria was haughty and aloof on a good day, but tonight she was being a downright bitch. After a few seconds of contemplation, he sat back down, pulled out his phone, and called Spike. No answer. He tried Angel, but he didn't answer either. He knew that his aggravated tone would be apparent in any voice-mail messages he left them, so he opted for texts instead. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the desk as he waited for a reply.

"Snooping through Daddy's desk, I see," an unfamiliar disembodied voice declared.

"What the fuck!" Connor exclaimed, jumping from the chair and immediately taking a defensive stance. "Who are you? Where are you?"

He glanced frantically all around him but saw no one.

"Show yourself!" he demanded angrily.

"As you wish," the voice said indifferently.

Connor grabbed the only "weapon" within reach, a silver letter opener, and stood perfectly still as wispy smoke rose from the floor and curled into elaborate designs in front of Angel's desk. The individual misty strands intertwined until, at least a full dramatic minute later, the spitting image of that first demon he had killed—well, the first one after regaining his memories—stood before him.

"Shit," Connor breathed out, more than a little unprepared. "Didn't I already kill you?"


	39. Chapter 39

"No. Not me," the demon said. "Though I suppose to your kind, all my kind look the same."

"Look, I don't know what you mean by that, but I'm pretty sure you're evil, so..."

Connor moved with reflexes that he'd almost forgotten he had and made to stab the demon with Angel's letter opener in what he hoped was the jugular. He knew within the flash of half a second that it would do no good, however, because the demon didn't even attempt to move. Sure enough, Connor stabbed hard at thin air.

"Yeah," the demon said. "That happens."

"You... You're like a ghost, or something," Connor said uncertainly.

"Incorporeal," he corrected. "I'm real, just not... really."

"Uh huh," Connor said. "So how do I kill you?"

The demon snorted.

"You really are a feisty one," he observed, sounding pleased. "I suppose that if he had to go, Sahjhan was probably happy that it was at your hands."

"Sahjhan, that's... Well, I mean, I thought that was you," Connor said, sinking back down into Angel's chair and tossing the letter opener on the desk.

"No, not me," he said. "Pihjzhan. Pleased to meet you. I'd offer you my hand, but..."

"P. John?" Connor asked skeptically. "I'm pretty sure you just made that up."

"Not P. John," the demon said, clearly aggravated. "Pihjzhan. Look, never mind. It doesn't matter. The thing is, you killed Sahjhan, and now I seek your blood."

"For vengeance," Connor said, nodding. "He was your friend, and you want to avenge his death."

"What?" the demon asked, and then chuckled. "Oh. Lord no. Nothing like that. I don't want _all_ of your blood. Just a little bit should do it. You got any vials or anything around this place?"

"Look," Connor said. "I'm not just gonna _give _you my blood or anything, so..."

"Come on, kid," Pihjzhan said. "I tried doing this the demony way, and it didn't work. So I'm asking ya, man to man. I only need a sample. I don't even want to kill you. I mean, it _would_ be a nice bonus, killing the bastard 'miracle' son of two vampires."

"I'm not a bastard son!" Connor protested.

"What's going on in here?" Angel demanded, suddenly appearing in the doorway holding an axe in each hand.

Connor immediately removed himself from his dad's chair and pointed an accusing finger at the P. John guy.

"He says he's after my blood!"

"Who does?" Angel asked, looking around confused.

"Oh, great. Seriously?" Connor asked with a sigh. "You seriously can't see that guy? Standing _right_ there? Right in front of you?"

Without asking further questions, Angel swung one axe hard at the spot Connor had indicated, but of course nothing happened.

"Angel, pleased to meet you," Pihjzhan said, his voice booming loudly in the room. "I was just having a little chat with your son here."

"Who are you?" Angel asked angrily, looking around. "And what do you want with my kid? Are you the son of a bitch we've been tracking all this time?"

All this time? What the hell was Angel talking about?

"Dad, what the hell are you talking about?" Connor demanded.

"Get out of here, Connor," Angel ordered. "Just point me toward wherever the demon is, and then get out of here."

"No way," Connor said, planting himself back in the chair. "This is totally my business. Plus, I'm apparently the only one that can see him."

"Spike!" Angel called over his shoulder. "Spike! Gunn! Illyria! Everybody! Everybody get down here right now!"

"Gunn's not home and Illyria left," Connor said sullenly.

"I specifically told her not to leave," Angel muttered.

"Is anybody gonna tell me what's going on?" Connor asked.

"Later, Connor," Angel said. "Now _get out_ of here!"

Connor really didn't see what the big deal was. It wasn't like this demon could hurt him, anyway, as far as he could tell. If he could, and wanted his blood so much, he'd have already taken it. Connor remained seated and glanced at Angel with mild defiance on his face.

"Son, you do _not_ want to do this right now," Angel said warningly. "I'm telling you to get out of here, and I mean it!"

"He can't do anything to me, Dad," Connor said dismissively.

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the demon raised his wispy, incorporeal arms toward the ceiling and began chanting.

"Shit!" Connor said, startled into moving his ass out of the chair and closer to his father.

"What's he doing?" Angel asked frantically. "What's happening?"

"He's doing a spell or something," Connor said. "I don't know!"

"I'm here," Spike said. "What's all the commotion ab—holy hell!"

It appeared that Spike too could see the demon with his outstretched arms in Angel's office.

"That's him, Angel!" he yelled, almost gleefully. "That's the guy! Can we kill him? Oh, please say we can kill him!"

"You can see him, too?" Angel asked.

"Well, of course I can see him," Spike said. "Can't you?"

"No," Angel mumbled. "Apparently not."

"Excuse me," the demon said pointedly. "I'm trying to do a spell here. Could you two keep it down?"

Spike rushed headlong at the demon, ignoring Connor's shout to stop, and smashed himself headfirst into the front of Angel's desk.

"Bloody hell!" he screamed angrily, and when he came up again, was in full vamp face. "You're gonna pay for that! The urn, Angel, you moron! Get the urn!"

"Wait—you have an urn?" Pihjzhan asked, sounding concerned. "Nobody told me that you had an urn. So hard to find good help these days."

He began chanting faster.

"Oh!" Angel said, shaking himself out of his daze.

He dashed toward the bottom of the bookshelf nearest him and came up with a shiny black vase. Despite the urgency of the situation, Connor had to look twice. It couldn't be. But yes, yes it was. It was emblazoned with the image of Mickey Mouse.

After a couple faltering starts, Angel finally got the urn pointed in the direction of the demon and said a few words of his own, and Mr. P. John found himself sucked into the vase, which Angel promptly capped with its lid.

"Bollocks," Spike complained. "I wanted to hit him."

"Um. What the fuck?" Connor asked. "What was that?"

"That," Angel said, panting hard and handing the urn to Spike, "was the source of all your problems."

"Um, okay," Connor said, though he was pretty sure that wasn't true. "Micky Mouse was the source of all my problems. Sure. Why not."

"I had it painted to disguise it," Angel explained. "Plus I... I kinda thought it was cute..."

"I repeat, though, what the fuck?" Connor said, growing increasingly frustrated with his lack of insight into the situation.

"Watch your mouth!" Angel said sharply.

"Dad!" Connor protested. "A big-ass ugly demon just showed up here intent on taking my blood, and you're telling me to watch my mouth! Are you going to tell me what's going on, or what?"

"I'll tell you," Spike offered, carefully setting the urn on the desk. "That was Pihjzhan."

"Uh, yeah, I know _that_," Connor said hotly. "But what _was_ it?"

"Demon," Spike said simply, pulling a cigarette out of his jacket and lighting it.

"I told you, no smoking in my office," Angel said, frowning.

Spike just rolled his eyes.

"The next time I tell you to do something, Connor," Angel said, turning his attention back to him, "I expect you to do it. I want to know what the hell made you think you could start disobeying me all of a sudden, at the worst possible time for you to do so."

"He couldn't hurt me!" Connor protested, folding his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, mate, but he was summoning some friends who could," Spike informed him. "What do you think all that chanting was about?"

"Oh," Connor said, feeling immensely foolish. "Well... Well, I didn't know that."

"You are damn lucky I'm too tired to bust your ass right now," Angel said crossly.

"Yes," Connor said sheepishly. "I suppose that's true."

"Don't worry, he can always do it later," Spike said mischievously.

"Spike!" Connor hissed, and then tried to change the subject back to a more acceptable one. "If you were out looking for that guy, shouldn't you have, I don't know, taken that urn thing with you? In case you caught him?"

"Spike was supposed to bring it," Angel said, staring daggers in Spike's direction.

"Oh, come on!" Spike exclaimed, clearly embarrassed. "I forget one bloody thing!"

"So where have you guys been?" Connor asked. "Illyria wouldn't tell me. And she was being a … she was being really mean."

"I told her not to tell you what we were doing," Angel explained, "because I knew that if you found out, you'd do something stupid like trying to come and help us. Instead you did something stupid right here."

"How was I supposed to know there was a demon thing gonna show up here?" Connor asked defensively. "I mean, Jesus! It's not like I said to myself, 'I'll just go over to Angel's and see if I can get attacked by any demons while no one's looking.'"

"I can do without the sarcasm," Angel warned.

"I liked it," Spike said. "Use some more."

"I need a drink," Angel muttered.

"Well, that's sorta why I came over," Connor said, his spirits brightening. "I thought maybe we could go out. You and me."

Spike cleared his throat.

"And Spike."

"I don't know, pal," Angel said reluctantly. "There's just so much work to do here and everything..."

"Oh, come on, Dad, please?" Connor asked. "You got the demon thing that was after me—unless there's more to the story that you aren't telling me. And even if there is, you may as well tell me over a few drinks. Please?"

Angel looked like he was going to protest again, but Spike reached out and smacked him hard on the back of the head.

"Watch it!" Angel said, his hand going straight to his hair.

"Your boy wants to go out and have a good time with his old man," Spike said. "And you're bloody going. They grow up so fast—pretty soon he'll come to his senses and be embarrassed by you, and then he won't want anything to do with your stupid arse."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Angel said dryly, but he picked up his coat anyway.

"Yes!" Connor said triumphantly. "Awesome."

"We're not going anywhere that you've ever been with Spike," Angel said, leading them toward the door.

Spike snorted.

"Good luck finding a place me and Junior haven't been," he said.

Connor shook his head, attempting to indicate to Spike that he'd really rather Angel didn't hear about all their various drunken escapades through L.A.

* * *

"And then, I totally cut off his hand!" Angel declared proudly.

"Great?" Connor said uncertainly. "I mean, that's... cool, I guess."

"Oh, don't worry," Angel said dismissively as he took another massive drink of his pint of beer. "He got another one."

"Yeah, that's... that's just totally normal," Connor answered with a small smile in Spike's direction.

"We should get more beer," Angel said, eying the nearly empty pitcher on the table. "You two really did a number on this one."

"Yeah, _we_ sure did, mate," Spike said, winking at Connor.

"I'll take care of the problem," Angel said happily, rising from the booth and carrying the pitcher toward the bar.

"He's a funny drunk," Connor observed quietly to Spike.

"Yeah," Spike said. "Sometimes."

"Thanks for making him come out with us," Connor said. "I bet he'd answer any question I asked him right now."

"Probably," Spike agreed. "But aren't you tired of hearing him talk?"

Once he'd gotten his initial beer in him, Angel had finally told Connor all about the Pihjzhan character, how he and Spike had been tracking him ever since Eve had—under duress—named him as the source of Connor's memory loss. Apparently, Pihjzhan and Sahjhan were of the same stock, which Connor readily believed from appearances alone. Angel had described how he'd made Sahjhan corporeal again after he'd instigated Connor's kidnapping. The best they could tell, Pihjzhan wanted to be a real boy, too, and he had targeted Connor for either of two reasons. First, if and when Angel found the source of his son's problems, he might just make him corporeal with the intention of killing him, thus giving him at least a shot at escaping unharmed and whole. Secondly—and much to Connor's dismay—since he had killed Sahjhan, there was a spell involving his blood that could restore a demon of the same breed to his physical body. When Pihjzhan's first attempt had failed, he had tried to hire several local baddies to fill the task of securing him some of Connor's blood, but when the name Angelus got dropped, they kept backing out.

As for why Angel couldn't see Pihjzhan, he didn't know exactly. He was, however, pretty sure that it had something to do with the fact that he was Connor's father.

Angel had explained all this with fervor and great detail, and while Connor knew he should be interested, he'd found himself drawn into a secret game of napkin tic-tac-toe down in the booth between him and Spike.

"I got it!" Angel said as he returned to the table carrying a new pitcher.

"Um, Dad," Connor said with a smirk. "That one's half gone already. What did you do?"

"Oh," Angel said, looking at it curiously. "Well, I saw an old buddy of mine at the bar, and I guess I drank it while we talked. Spike, get out."

"What?" Spike asked, wadding up the tic-tac-toe napkin and cramming it down into an empty glass. "What for?"

"Because I want to sit between my two boys!" Angel declared.

For a fleeting moment, Spike looked immensely pleased. He got that under control, however, and slid with a sigh out of the booth to let Angel in.

"There. That's better," Angel said, throwing an arm around each of them.

"You're really hammered, Angel," Spike said, smiling. "I think we should probably go home soon."

"What? Nonsense!" Angel scoffed, sounding more and more Irish as he talked. "The night's young yet! Besides, you know I never could get drunk off ale. Doesn't matter how much of it I drink, it just has no effect."

"Yeah," Connor agreed, exchanging glances with Spike. "That's so true, Dad. So true."

* * *

_A/N: Okay, I admit it. I've been cheating on this story with a couple other projects. I am very naughty._

_If you like Angel & Connor father/son stories, you should check out Ladyschumi's stories on here. Most of hers are in Spanish, but you'll find a way to make it work. _

_Also, it isn't normally my thing, but I read a couple of stories on this site where Spike got turned into a kid, and I totally fell in love with them (see stories by Higgy if you don't know what I'm talking about). I'm thinking about attempting to do one like that myself. If I did it, it would probably have corporal punishment because, well, I just can't help myself where that's concerned. Would there be any interest in something like that, or would it be a lost cause?  
_


	40. Chapter 40

_My, I have been neglectful. Don't worry, I'm back to working on it now._

* * *

Angel regretted his boys' night out. He didn't exactly say that in so many words, but he said so many other words that Connor got the idea.

"...so just don't expect it to happen again any time soon," he was saying. "It was a one-time thing."

"So, you're saying you didn't have any fun?" Connor asked.

"No, I'm not saying that. But you're only nineteen! What kind of example does that set?"

"Like you weren't drinking when you were nineteen," Connor grumbled.

"That's not the point, and you know it," Angel said. "Besides, things were different back then. And we shouldn't have gone out at all after the way you acted here."

Connor's face flushed without his permission.

"I'm sorry, okay?" he offered quietly. "I didn't think. You... are you gonna punish me now?"

"No," Angel said. "The moment has passed, don't you think?"

"What are you asking me for?" Connor asked, embarrassed. "I'm not in charge."

Angel tried to suppress a smile as he reached out and tousled Connor's hair, effectively dismissing the issue as far as Connor was concerned.

"What are you gonna do with that, anyway?" he asked, nodding at the urn full of demon.

"Destroy it," Angel answered.

"How?" Connor inquired.

"Don't know yet," Angel said, shrugging.

"Can I help?"

"Nah."

"I think you're being a little too nonchalant about this thing," Connor replied, frowning. "I mean, it's my blood he's gonna come after if he gets out of there. And I need my blood, all of it! And what about all those friends he was trying to summon? What if they decide to just come on their own?"

"I've got it under control, son," Angel answered. "You don't need to worry about it."

"But I want to help destroy it," Connor insisted, fully aware that it bordered on whining.

"I said no, Connor," Angel repeated firmly. "End of discussion."

"Okay," Connor agreed with an unsatisfied sigh.

He traced an invisible pattern on the top of Angel's desk. He didn't want to go home, but he couldn't really come up with any good reason why he should hang around any longer. He'd already spent the night again—something he was afraid he was slipping into the habit of doing too often—and Angel seemed pretty busy rifling through some old book.

"Something on your mind?" Angel asked, causing him to jump right out of his thoughts.

"No, sir," he answered a little too quickly, pulling his hand away from the desk as if he'd been scolded for it.

Angel gave him a curious look and put his book down.

"You sure?" he asked. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"I know," Connor said, and then tried to change the subject. "Did Illyria ever come home?"

"Yeah," Angel answered after a moment. "She's pretty pissed off at me, but she came home some time last night."

"Why's she so mad?"

"Oh, you know," Angel said evasively. "We had a chat, and she didn't like what I had to say."

"That why she was going on about how you're the leader?" Connor asked. "And how the rest of us are _not_ the leader?"

"Probably," Angel answered, nodding. "She needs to work a little harder to be a team player."

"Do you think..." Connor started, and then thought better of it. "Never mind."

"What, Connor?" Angel asked gently. "If there's something you want to say to me, say it."

"Well," he began again. "Do you think I could ever be on your team again? I mean like, going out on cases and stuff?"

"Of course, pal," Angel said. "We did some practice, remember?"

"Yeah, but only that once," Connor pointed out.

"I want you to focus on school right now," Angel admitted after a moment. "Maybe after you graduate..."

"After I graduate!" Connor exclaimed. "That's gonna be years from now. If at all."

"If at all?" Angel asked sharply, getting to his feet.

"It was a joke!" Connor said defensively, sinking further back into his chair. "It was just a joke."

"It better have been a joke," Angel said sternly, but his features relaxed just a bit. "You are going to graduate from college, and you are going to be at least magna cum laude, or we are going to have a problem."

"Okay," Connor said hotly, staring at the floor.

"Don't you 'okay' me," Angel scolded.

"Sorry!" Connor said defensively. "Geez."

He continued to stare hard at the floor. Nothing right was coming out of his mouth today. Angel was getting pissed off at him, and they'd had such a good time together the night before! Maybe he should just go back to bed.

"When is your next report card?" Angel asked, making Connor laugh.

"You don't get report cards in college, Dad," he informed him importantly.

"Well, then, when is your end of term?"

"Middle of December," Connor answered slowly. "Why?"

"Because I expect to see a printout of your final grades, that's why," Angel ordered.

"I'm not flunking!" Connor said indignantly. "If that's what you're worried about."

"I'm not worried," Angel said. "I just want to make sure that you're trying your best."

"Of course I'm trying!" Connor spat, becoming increasingly aggravated. "I'm not stupid! Or if I am, at least I come by it honest!"

Well, final grades no longer mattered, as Connor was certain that Angel was about to knock him straight into the spring semester. He sprang from his chair and attempted to bolt toward the door, but Angel grabbed him rather painfully by the scruff of his neck and jerked him backwards.

"I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it!" he gushed effusively. "Oh, God, I swear I didn't mean it, Angel!"

Angel maintained his grip on the back of Connor's neck and leaned down to speak ominously into his ear.

"You get your ass up to your room. Stop by mine for the spatula," he commanded, and then added, "And don't you even think about running out of here, or I will bust your ass right in the middle of the street when I do catch you."

"Please, Dad. I don't know why I said that. It was a joke. It was just a joke!" Connor pleaded.

"_Right now_!" Angel ordered, punctuating each word with a hard whack across the backs of his legs.

"Ouch!" Connor yelled, and once Angel released him, he booked it up the stairs, taking them two and three at a time.

As ordered, he stopped by Angel's room to grab that dreaded wooden spatula. He knew Angel kept it on top of his dresser, but he really hoped he wouldn't find it there. Unfortunately, it hadn't met any kind of untimely demise, and Connor retrieved it, blushing furiously.

He was halfway to the hallway when he realized that the noise he kept hearing was more than the blood pounding in his own ears. Someone was in Angel's shower.

"Spike?" he asked, opening the door a crack.

"Ah!" Spike yelped, reaching for a towel and pulling it around his waist even though he was still behind the shower curtain.

"What are you doing in here?" Connor asked. "Angel's gonna kill you! After he gets done killing me."

"What've you done now?" Spike asked, poking his head out and wincing sympathetically as he saw the spatula in his hand. "Captain Forehead decide to tan your hide for last night's events after all?"

"I may have implied that he was stupid," Connor said sullenly.

Spike began to laugh. It started as a chuckle, but quickly turned into a full-on guffaw.

Connor shut the bathroom door and headed to his room to wait for his dad. Why the hell had he shot his mouth off like that? He didn't even _mean_ the comment. He'd just opened his mouth and the words had come pouring out of their own accord. Maybe he would plead temporary insanity, because that was truly the only explanation he could come up with for his own behavior.

Angel arrived sooner than Connor would have liked, and when he shut the door behind him, it was with a slam.

"I'm so sorry," Connor offered. "I am so, so sorry."

"We need to clear a few things up," Angel said tightly, leaning against the closed door.

"Yes, sir," Connor answered, nodding.

"You will _not_ talk to me like that."

"No, sir, I won't do it again," Connor agreed, nodding more enthusiastically.

"I know we don't have the most normal relationship, Connor," Angel continued with a sigh. "And some day, we'll be friends. I want to be your friend. But I messed up by going out with you last night. I'm not your friend yet. I'm your dad, and I think you need me to drive that point home right now."

"I don't, Dad, really," Connor denied, shaking his head. "I swear I get it. I don't know why I run my mouth like that. I'm an idiot, but it has nothing to do with my bloodline."

"Get your pants down," Angel replied calmly, ignoring Connor's rambling.

"Please, Dad," Connor implored.

He'd been spanked, what? A thousand times? Yet he never seemed to get any better at taking it. It never sucked any less.

"Right now, son," Angel said, raising his eyebrows and clearly expecting prompt obedience.

"You're angry, Dad," Connor said, shaking his head and backing straight up toward the wall.

"Damn straight I'm angry," Angel agreed, making his way toward Connor's bed. "Get your ass over here right now unless you want a few licks with the belt before we even get to the paddling."

Connor did not want that, so he forced his legs to walk toward Angel. He stopped within arm's reach, knowing Angel would take care of the rest.

"Gimme that," Angel demanded, motioning toward the spatula that Connor had in a death grip.

Angel yanked it from his outstretched hand, then grabbed the wrist of that same hand and tipped Connor straight over his knee. He pulled his jeans and boxers down, shifted him slightly, and then absolutely whaled on his bare behind with that spatula.

Connor couldn't help it. He screamed. There was no other, more manly word for it—it was a scream.

"Um … Everything okay in there?" he heard Gunn call through the door.

"Fine!" Angel called before going back to his task. "I'm just taking care of a naughty little boy."

"Dad, please!" Connor hissed, embarrassed beyond belief. "Oh God, please!"

"God's got nothing to do with this, Connor," Angel said, "and not even He could keep me from wearing you out right now."

That didn't stop Connor from screwing his eyes shut and offering up a prayer to any deity that might be free and listening while Angel spanked him ridiculously hard. He didn't let any more screams escape, but the tears flowed freely down his cheeks, and Angel didn't stop until Connor had begun to cry so hard that he was coughing.

"I love you, Connor," Angel said, tossing the spatula aside and gathering the sobbing mess into his arms.

"You have … funny way … showing it," Connor choked out, trying hard to catch his breath and get his pants up.

"You had that coming," Angel said sternly, not giving an inch. "The disobedience and the smart mouthing are going to stop. No kid of mine is going to talk to me like that, not ever, do you hear me?"

"Yes," Connor said, still crying brokenly and wiping at the tears that refused to stop falling.

"I mean it!" Angel shouted.

"I know!" Connor shouted back.

The two locked eyes for a moment and then both of them laughed uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry," Connor offered. "And not just because of what just happened."

"Me too," Angel admitted, looking down guiltily at the spatula on the floor. "You … You probably didn't deserve all that."

"No. I totally did. But I hate that spatula," Connor sniffed, reaching back to rub his incredibly sore backside. "It really hurts."

Angel pulled him in for another hug and kissed him on top of the head.

"You'll live."

"Dad?" Connor asked Angel's shirt front.

"Yeah, pal?"

"When you say I have to wait until after I graduate... Is that really all there is to it?"

"What do you mean?" Angel asked, holding Connor out at arm's length and searching his eyes.

Connor ducked his head, but Angel tipped his chin back up so he'd have to look at him.

"I mean... I mean is it because you don't... you don't trust me yet?" he finally choked out, and fresh tears blurred his vision.

"Oh, Connor," Angel said gently, pulling him toward the bed and straight into his lap. "Is that what you're worried about?"

"That's not an answer," Connor pointed out, playing with a button on Angel's shirt.

"Of course I trust you," Angel said, petting his hair.

"Because I wouldn't betray you again," Connor said, making his voice as strong as he could under the circumstances. "I wouldn't."

"I know, son," Angel said gently. "I know that. I told you to stop feeling guilty for the past."

"I can't," Connor answered simply. "You can whup me for it all you want, but I can't."

Despite his best efforts not to, Connor dissolved into tears again. He was half afraid he'd end up right back over Angel's knees, but his dad just held him tighter and let him cry until he was done.

"I love you so much, Connor Reilly," Angel said once Connor had calmed down enough to listen.

Connor smiled through his tears. It was weird hearing Angel call him that.

"I love you, too, Dad," he finally offered, the words barely catching in his constricted throat.

"Wanna go to the basement and punch things?" Angel asked.

"Do some training, you mean?" Connor asked. "With the punching bag?"

"Well," Angel answered, pulling him back slightly and brushing the hair out of his eyes. "I was thinking more along the lines of punching Spike, but yeah."

Connor laughed, feeling immensely better, and eased himself off of Angel's lap.

"Spike!" Angel called out as he opened the door.

"I wasn't in your shower!" Spike replied immediately. "I don't care what your spawn said! That boy is a liar!"

"Can I punch him some, too?" Connor asked, smiling.

"Absolutely," Angel answered, leading Connor out of the room with his arm around his shoulders.

* * *

_A/N: All right, all right, I know. Angel's a little mean in this chapter (and always). But it'll all work out, I promise (maybe)._

_Thanks for all the reviews! I am glad you're reading it, whether you like it or not.  
_


	41. Chapter 41

_A/N: This is a short little thing that I wanted to include even though there's not really any action going on. Thank you for the reviews, even the negative ones. I do read and appreciate them, even if I don't get the chance to reply to them all._

_

* * *

_

"Okay, now tell it again!" Spike said gleefully as he slid his pawn across the board.

"No," Connor said. "I don't want to."

"Come on, please?" Spike asked. "Just one more time?"

"I'm glad you find my pain and suffering so amusing," Connor said sullenly, studying the board.

"That's not what I find so amusing," Spike said. "Well, that a little bit, too, but mainly I can't believe you had the balls to say that to him when he was already pissed off."

"I have balls!" Connor said defensively.

"Yeah," Spike agreed. "It wasn't really that bad, though, what you said. Hilarious, but not that bad. I don't know why he got _that_ bent out of shape about it. He probably shouldn't have pounded on you for it. You should ask for an apology."

"Already got one," Connor said.

"Really?" Spike asked with surprise.

"Yeah."

"He never tells me he's s... Never mind."

Spike glanced up and met Connor's gaze briefly before dropping his eyes back down to the board and declaring,

"Checkmate."

Connor smirked.

"It's okay, I think I have you figured out," he informed him. "And no, I don't wanna know."

"I said checkmate," Spike repeated, staring hard at the board. "See? Right there. Not going anywhere, your king."

Connor frowned.

"Are you _sure_ you don't cheat?" he asked. "I mean, just a little bit?"

"Bloody hell," Spike muttered. "I'm not playing with you anymore. You're as bad as he is."

Connor shrugged.

"Tell it again," Spike tried.

"No!" Connor said, laughing. He leaned his back against the wall. "But if I do tell you something, will you promise not to tell Angel?"

Spike gave him a scrutinizing look and replied bluntly,

"No. Not if it's something I think he needs to know."

"It's not," Connor assured him. "It's just something that happened to me one time, sort of. Something that I'm not sure if it'd make him mad or give him ideas."

"I see," Spike said, though he looked like he didn't see at all.

"One time, when I was little..." Connor started.

"With Holtz?" Spike asked.

"No," Connor said quickly. "I don't … I don't talk about him a lot, okay?"

"All right, mate," Spike agreed quietly.

"So yeah, this is one of those fake memories, but it's firmly in there, you know? It feels real. To me and to my family. But I don't like to talk about things like this with Angel."

Spike sighed, but motioned for him to continue.

"So one time, I guess I was ten or eleven years old, and there was something on TV I wanted to stay up late and watch," Connor explained.

"Oh, what was it?" Spike asked, his eyes lighting up.

"I don't know, Spike," Connor said, laughing. "I don't remember."

Spike's eyes glazed over for a moment, and Connor could just tell that he was counting back the years in his head trying to figure out what a ten year old boy might want to watch on a late night.

"But I had school the next day, and my mom and dad said no," he continued.

"Did you sneak out of bed and do it anyway?" Spike asked hopefully.

"Yeah," Connor confirmed. "I waited until I thought for sure they were asleep. I guess I thought I was really sneaky, you know? So we only had a TV in the living room, which was downstairs. And I guess I made a little more noise than I thought I did, because Mom totally busted me right as I'd turned the set on."

"Uh oh," Spike said.

"I thought that maybe she'd let me stay up, since I was already up anyway, but she wasn't having any of it. She turned the TV off and stood in front of it with her arms crossed before pointing wordlessly toward my room."

"What'd you do?" Spike asked.

"Well, I was kinda mad at myself for getting caught, you know? And I got all defensive and huffy and I yelled at her," Connor said quietly.

"What'd you say?"

"I told her she was stupid and that I hated her," Connor confessed.

"Ouch," Spike said. "Harsh."

"Yeah," Connor said, blushing. "I mean, I didn't mean it. And I know she knew I didn't mean it, but the look on her face when I said it … It really hurt her feelings."

"Did you get in trouble?" Spike asked.

"Oh, yeah," Connor said, nodding.

"Get smacked?" Spike asked.

"Nah. They didn't do that, amazingly. I'm surprised Angel didn't make it a requirement when he got me a new family."

"No kidding," Spike agreed good-naturedly. "So what did they do, then?"

"Mom didn't even wake Dad up, which I was grateful for. Later on, you know. I wasn't grateful for any part of it at the time. But she dragged me to the bathroom and washed my mouth out with soap!"

"No!" Spike said.

"Yeah. It was disgusting. She made me bite down on the bar and hold it in my mouth for like, ever," Connor said.

"Utter cruelty," Spike said in a tone that made Connor think he was probably making fun of him.

"Laugh all you want," Connor said. "But I didn't do that again. You ever tasted soap?"

"Not on purpose," Spike answered.

"So anyway, my point is," Connor continued. "Maybe what I said to Angel wasn't that bad, and maybe it was. My ass is telling me it was."

Spike grunted noncommittally.

"What?" Connor asked.

"Nothin'," he answered.

"Tell me," Connor said. "You did that thing you do."

"What thing I do?" Spike asked. "I don't do any thing."

"Yes, you do. You make this noise. This noise that says, 'Well, you're too stupid to figure it out on your own, but I'm still not going to tell you.'"

"I don't do any such thing," Spike said, but he clearly knew he'd been caught.

"Tell me," Connor repeated.

"Fine," Spike replied, lying back on his bedroom floor and clasping his hands underneath his head. "But you're not going to like it."

"Okay," Connor said warily. "Tell me anyway."

"I think you provoke him," Spike said.

"I provoke him?" Connor asked when it seemed like Spike wasn't going to offer any further insight. "How so?"

"You provoke him," Spike repeated. "Clearly."

"Well … Well not on purpose," Connor said uncertainly. "It's not like I want him to beat my ass."

"When was the last time you and Angel sat down and had an honest conversation with each other?" Spike asked.

"We talk all the time," Connor said defensively.

"Yeah, but talk is cheap."

"What are you trying to say?" Connor asked.

"I know people," Spike said, focusing on the ceiling. "You may think I don't, because I haven't been one of them for so long, but I do. And the only time you and your pops have an honest conversation with each other is after he's skelped half the skin off of your behind."

"That's … not true, I don't think," Connor said uncomfortably.

"Is too," Spike answered simply. "The only way he gets your true feelings is when he whips them out of you."

"So you're saying he … he punishes me to get me to open up to him?" Connor asked, rather horrified.

"Oh, no," Spike said dismissively. "Don't get me wrong. He punishes you like that because he's old and you're his child and he thinks you need it. It just happens to also have the other result. Angel's not nearly as devious as all that, no matter how highly he thinks of himself. He's dumb as a stick … but uh, don't, you know, tell him I said so or anything."

"You … you should tell him all this," Connor suggested.

"You've totally missed my point, now, haven't you?" Spike asked, rolling his eyes. "You need to talk to him, not me. I'm tired of being your go-between."

"You're not our go-between," Connor denied.

"Whatever. How many times have I attempted to smooth things over between you two?"

"None that you've been asked," Connor replied hotly, and Spike gave him a look. "Well, I mean, not counting just now..."

"Right," Spike said dryly as he got to his feet in one smooth motion. "Just give it some thought. Next time something's on your mind, try telling him the truth about it _before_ you open your mouth and earn yourself a smacked bottom."

Spike left the room and shut the door behind him, leaving Connor with a chess board to clean up and a whole lot of thoughts to sort through.


	42. Chapter 42

"Hey, Dad?" Connor whispered, pushing Angel's bedroom door open slightly and peering into the darkened room.

It was four in the morning, and Connor couldn't sleep. He knew Angel had probably only been in bed for an hour or so himself, and he hated to disturb him like this, but the wee hours of the morning always had a way of making him do things he wouldn't normally do.

"Yeah, pal?" Angel asked, sitting abruptly upright and inhaling deeply. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Connor answered quickly. "I just … Can we talk?"

"Yeah, of course," Angel replied, switching on his bedside lamp. "Come in. What is it?"

"Sorry to wake you," Connor said, having second thoughts about it. "And I know I said I was gonna go home tonight, but Spike and I were playing some games, and time just got away..."

"You don't need to apologize for that," Angel said. "You can stay here anytime. I love having you here."

"Do you really?" Connor asked seriously. "I mean, really?"

"Yes, Connor," Angel answered firmly, suddenly much more awake. "Of course. I've told you that. What's on your mind?"

Angel patted the bed in front of him, inviting Connor to have a seat. He did.

"Dad," he started awkwardly.

"Son," Angel acknowledged patiently after a moment.

Connor gave him a weak smile.

"Spike says we're emotionally stunted," he finally offered.

"Spike says a lot of stuff," Angel replied immediately, unfazed by the news.

"Yeah," Connor agreed. "But I think he might be right on this one."

"Whatever's on your mind, you can tell me," Angel coaxed, patting him on the arm.

"Can I?" Connor asked skeptically. "Because it seems like sometimes, I tell you things, and you just get mad."

"Well, I'd rather you didn't tell me I was stupid," Angel answered brusquely. "Whether it's true or not."

"That isn't what I meant," Connor said quickly. "I know that was disrespectful, okay? I won't do it again. Trust me."

He shifted a little, remembering the still pretty fresh consequences of that stupid comment.

Angel sighed.

"I was too hard on you for that," he admitted. "I don't know, it just … I think I saw a little bit of myself in you when you said that. I saw myself talking to my father."

"And you wanted to beat it out of me?" Connor asked, grinning.

"Yeah, maybe," Angel answered honestly. "But that was my mistake, not yours. I want us to be able to communicate, I really do. And hell, if you think I need to be told I'm being stupid, you tell me."

"Sorry, Dad," Connor replied, shaking his head. "I said I wouldn't do that again, and I think I meant it."

"I mess everything up," Angel said tiredly. "I wanted … I wanted to be your father, and … and instead, sometimes I realize I'm my own father, and..."

"Kinda like on Futurama?" Connor asked, trying to lighten the mood, though he knew the reference would be lost on Angel.

"Huh?"

"Nothing, Dad."

"I just hate that you were taken from me," Angel said, and then shook his head. "No. You weren't taken. I've tried to put the blame on others for too long, when really, it's my fault. I let them get you. I let them get you, and I _hate _it, Connor. I hate it so much."

Apparently Angel had been doing some thinking of his own.

"Dad," Connor said weakly, scooting over to sit beside his father and wrapping his arm around him. "It's not your fault. It's nobody's fault but that son of a bitch Schezwan that changed the prophesy."

"Sahjhan," Angel corrected. "Schezwan is chicken."

"You know that, but you don't know Futurama? Look, whatever. It's his fault—and I'd say I got my revenge for that, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah," Angel agreed, nodding and beaming at him proudly. "Yeah, you did. And you were so good. I was really nervous."

"You wouldn't have let him hurt me," Connor said confidently. "Even if what happened in there, with the memories and stuff... Even if that hadn't happened, you wouldn't have let him hurt me."

"Do you wish you hadn't gotten your memories back?" Angel asked tightly, staring down at his own hands.

"Yes and no," Connor answered truthfully. "There's a lot of wicked stuff in this head of mine."

"I know what you mean," Angel said, nodding. "Got some of that myself."

"But there's a lot of good stuff, too."

"If I could find a way to undo it..." Angel started. "I mean, if I could find a way to make your life like it was before all that happened..."

"I'd never forgive you," Connor interrupted. "It wouldn't matter if I didn't remember you; I'd never forgive you. You've messed with my head enough."

"Yeah. I guess you're right," Angel acknowledged, giving him a watery smile.

"I love you, Dad," Connor said, making sure that Angel held eye contact with him. "I mean that. I'm grateful for everything that you've done for me. I'm sorry that I wasn't always here with you, and I'm really sorry for all the hell that I put you through when I came back."

"No, Connor, don't start with that," Angel interrupted.

"No, Dad, don't you start," Connor said firmly. "I'm trying to apologize here, so you're just going to sit there and accept it gracefully. And hopefully without whuppin' me again."

Angel laughed.

"Glad you think it's funny," Connor commented lightly.

"No, it's just... Spike told me that you and I never talk unless I've 'walloped' you."

"He told you that, too, huh?" Connor asked, surprised … But then when he thought about it, not really. "Did he also tell you he wasn't going to be our go-between anymore?"

"Yeah," Angel said, laughing again.

Connor rolled his eyes.

"He's always been that way," Angel told him. "Even when we were both evil. If your mother and I were having a fight or something, he couldn't stand it. He'd always try to fix it for us, whether we wanted it to be fixed or not."

"Will you tell me about her sometime?" Connor asked hesitantly. "About my mother?"

"I'll tell you about her right now," Angel said enthusiastically, sliding his legs out from underneath his covers and standing. "You tired?"

"No."

"Me neither. I'll make some popcorn. I think we have a lot to talk about."

"Thanks, Dad."


	43. Chapter 43

They talked for hours, until long after the sun had risen. Angel wanted to be in Connor's room so that they could have the TV on as a distraction. A distraction from what, Connor wasn't sure, but he obligingly stretched out on his stomach facing the foot of the bed and the television and claimed for himself the bowl of popcorn that Angel had made. Angel sat stiffly on the edge of the bed at first, but after a little while, he loosened up and made himself more comfortable, mirroring his son's pose.

"I feel like we're having a slumber party," Angel mused.

"We are," Connor told him. "But be quiet—I don't want to wake my dad. He's really strict."

Angel told Connor all kinds of stories about Darla, though he suspected that he'd skimmed over some of the gorier details. That was okay. It was clear that his dad had loved his mother, at least in his own way, and Angel made it abundantly clear to Connor that Darla had loved him. Connor thought that hearing about his mother might make him sad, but it didn't. It was somewhat more of a relief to finally have a frank discussion about his heritage.

"And then she dumped him right on his ass in the snow!" Angel recalled fondly, shaking his head and laughing.

"I bet Spike was so mad," Connor commented.

"Oh, he was livid," Angel said. "Made all kinds of threats. He was going to rip out her eyeballs and stuff them... Well, you get the idea. He was mad."

"Weird to think of Spike like that," Connor said. "Not livid and making threats. He does that now. But, you know. Evil."

"Yeah," Angel said uncomfortably. "He … I think he knew there was something wrong with us, even then. I had to have my soul forced back down my throat, but not him. He..."

"I know, Dad," Connor interrupted before Angel could spiral into some sort of self-loathing depression. "He's a good man. But so are you. And it doesn't matter how you got that way."

Angel nodded.

"I want to show you something," he said suddenly, leaping up from the bed. "I'll be right back."

Connor turned his attention to the infomercial on TV until Angel returned. It seemed rather absurd, sitting up at this ungodly hour, watching muted paid programming with his vampire father and talking about the bad old days. He found himself giggling into the blanket when Angel finally came back.

"You getting delirious?" Angel asked with amusement.

"No," Connor answered, afraid Angel might make him go to bed if he said yes.

"Here," Angel said, holding out a piece of paper toward him. "It's... I mean, sometimes I draw a little. This one is old. I thought you might like to have it."

Connor took the parchment from his dad and found himself gazing upon his mother, expertly drawn in soft charcoal.

"Dad, it's beautiful!" he gasped.

"Yeah, she was," Angel said. "The drawing doesn't do her justice, not really."

"Are you sure you want me to have this?" Connor asked.

"Yes," Angel said softly, producing another drawing. "And I … I thought you might like to have this one, too."

Angel handed him a drawing of Cordelia in which she was sporting a hairstyle that Connor had never seen her wear. He realized that it must have been drawn before he'd come here, probably before he'd even been born. He handed it back to him as if it were hot.

"No," he said quickly. "You keep that one."

"It's okay, son," Angel said, returning it to him. "I … I know you loved her. I loved her, too."

Connor reluctantly took the paper again. He set it aside with the drawing of his mother for fear that he'd ruin both of them with his impending tears. Angel leaned down and kissed him on top of his head, which opened the floodgates the rest of the way. He soon found himself sobbing into Angel's shoulder and listening to all the sweet nothings that Angel whispered in his ear in an attempt to calm him down.

Once Connor was only sniffling, Angel scooted toward the head board and easily pulled him right along with him, forcing him to rest his back on his father's chest. Angel wrapped his arms around him, and Connor leaned into the embrace, thoroughly exhausted.

"I know you don't want to talk about her," Angel murmured into his hair. "But I think we need to."

Connor couldn't make his voice work, but he nodded his consent. Angel talked and Connor listened, staring dumbly and bleary-eyed at the OxiClean commercial on television until he couldn't fight it any longer and fell asleep in his father's arms.

* * *

Connor awoke to find himself alone and tucked snugly into his bed at the Hyperion. He rubbed his eyes, which felt swollen, and eventually rolled over to check the time. Five P.M.! He had to get home! He had a million things to do for his Monday classes, and Angel had already told him in no uncertain terms that if he didn't maintain a 3.5 this semester, he'd be getting a spankin'. He really hoped to put spankings behind him soon, so he got a move on.

"Tell Dad I said bye," he called to Spike as he ran out the door with his dirty clothes in one hand and his newly acquired drawings in the other.

He felt so much better about things. About life in general. About everything.

He and Angel had not only talked about Darla, but they'd also touched on the heretofore taboo topic of Cordelia. Connor hadn't thought he could ever feel better about what had passed between him and her, but after hearing Angel say sincerely that he didn't blame him in any way for her death and that he didn't hate him for everything that had happened, he felt like at least one part of a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Connor felt horrible about Cordelia in more ways than one, though. A wicked, unreasonable part of his brain blamed her, held her responsible for all those bad things, for Jasmine. If Cordelia hadn't been there the night he'd sneaked into the Hyperion to spy on—and quite possibly to beg the forgiveness of—his father, none of it would have happened. Or at least, it wouldn't have happened when it did. That same wicked, unreasonable part of his brain wished Cordelia had never returned from her "higher plane" or whatever at all. Connor hadn't told Angel any of that, of course. And the more reasonable areas of his brain knew that he wouldn't have the good, developing father-son relationship with Angel that he now enjoyed had it not been for the horrid events of his past. But that didn't stop him from wishing. He supposed that was only human—and that was a good thing.

Connor turned the key in the lock and pushed his way into his apartment. Yep, it was still as dirty as he'd left it Friday night. There was something comforting about that. He was a grown man, and he could wallow in his own filth as much as he wanted—he just hoped his parents didn't drop by before he got a chance to do some cleaning up. He took the drawings Angel had given him to his room, tossed everything from the top drawer of his dresser into the floor, and placed them safely in there. He admired them for a moment, and admired his father for having the talent to create them.

It was getting late, though, and he had a lot of homework and reading to do, so Connor shoved all those thoughts out of his mind as best he could and tried to focus on the exciting subjects at hand: accounting, geology, and women's studies—yes, he'd taken that to meet girls, and yes, he knew it was wrong to do so. He snickered to himself as he thought about Angel asking him about "report card day." Then he stopped chuckling when he realized that if he didn't get to studying a little harder, "report card day" was going to be very unpleasant. That thought sobered him up enough to allow him to concentrate on his work, and when he finally did go to bed that night, it was with a lighter heart and clearer head than he'd had in awhile.


	44. Chapter 44

For whatever reason, things were suddenly awkward with Angel for awhile, and it seemed the harder the two of them tried to act "normal" around each other, the harder and more strained conversation got, and eventually Connor just stopped making visits to the Hyperion a priority. He wasn't sure why; getting things out in the open had been a good experience at the time—but often the good parts of things that happen at 4 A.M. don't carry over into the coming weeks.

Connor did what he always did in the case of these situations—he closed himself off from the rest of the world and pretended it didn't matter. It didn't matter that he couldn't talk to his dad. It didn't matter that he had two—no, three—fathers, and that the only one of them who was emotionally available to him was the only one he couldn't talk to about his real concerns. It didn't matter that Angel had in his office a vase containing the essence of a being who was literally out for his blood. It didn't matter that he was one week away from being twenty years old and still had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. All that mattered was that if he didn't get this copy of _A Room of One's Own_ read by Monday, he was not going to pass that quiz.

A tremendous hammering at the door startled him out of his thoughts. He glanced up and decided to ignore it. Whoever it was, they could just go away.

"Open up! Police!" called a voice that was obviously an affected—badly affected—American accent done by Spike.

Connor frowned and got to the door before Spike could pound on it any more.

"Not cool, man," he informed him, glancing around. "Do you want my neighbors thinking I'm a criminal or something?"

Spike shrugged and shoved past him.

"I don't recall inviting you in," Connor said, rolling his eyes and shutting the door.

"I'm family. I don't need an invite," Spike said, rummaging in the fridge. "Well, I mean, I do. But only the once."

"Just because you _can_ enter a person's home doesn't mean you _should_," Connor informed him.

"Every day, sounding more like your old man," Spike murmured, helping himself to an apple he found in the depths of the fridge.

"I'm kinda busy, Spike," Connor said.

"Yeah, right," Spike said, sitting down on the couch and shoving all Connor's books over to do so. "Young thing like you, you've got your whole life to be busy."

"Yeah, well, I'm starting right now. So, what do you want?"

"You've been avoiding Angel," Spike said, getting straight to the point.

"No, I haven't," Connor denied, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

"Have so."

"Have not. I've just been busy. Finals are coming up in less than a month, and I've just … I've joined a few study groups to get ready, and sometimes they meet at odd hours, and..."

"I'm not interested in your lame excuses," Spike interrupted around a bite of Golden Delicious.

"They're not lame," Connor mumbled. "And they're not excuses!"

"Puh-lease," Spike said doubtfully. "Don't hand me that crap. Look, I'm not your daddy, and I don't care that you're lying to me—"

"I'm not lying!" Connor insisted.

Spike stopped abruptly and gave him a rather stern, knowing look, making him drop his gaze to the floor.

"Sorry."

"I said I didn't care," Spike said, brushing it off. "What I do care about is that when you don't come around, Fancy Nancy turns into a complete basket case and starts taking out his frustrations on me."

"Is he being cranky?" Connor asked sympathetically.

"Hardly!" Spike said. "On the contrary. He's smothering me with attention and … and affection. Affection that should be yours. He's got all used to giving it out, and if there's no one around to take it, it ends up being directed at me. I don't like it, Connor. I don't like it one bit, and you need to fix it."

"I called him a few days ago," Connor offered weakly.

"Fat lot of good it did!" Spike said, waving his apple core around theatrically. "He still made me train with him for two hours last night—and I'll have you know it was during prime time—and after that, he made me go out for dinner and drinks with him. He got completely smashed and was _thisclose_ to attempting to dance on the bar!"

"You mean _in_ the bar," Connor said.

"No! I don't!"

"Oh," Connor said, attempting to hide his amusement at the idea of Angel doing an Irish jig on the counter top.

"It isn't funny, young man," Spike said seriously. "You just start bringing your skinny little arse back around so that he has someone else to occupy his time."

"Sounds like you two are getting along for a change," Connor pointed out, shrugging. "So I don't see why you're complaining."

"Because," Spike said, "Angel and me, that's just … That's not what we do. He misses you. But, that's about to change."

"How so?" Connor asked suspiciously.

"You're going to come 'round tonight," Spike informed him.

"I can't tonight," Connor said immediately. "I've got stuff to do. I can't just put things on hold because you want me to."

"Piffle," Spike said dismissively. "You're coming over tonight. Be at the hotel around 8. Bring chips."

"Why?"

"Because I like chips."

"We'll see."

"Yes, we will see," Spike said, nodding and tossing Connor his brown apple core. "We'll see you there. Or else."

Connor showed Spike out, waited until he'd made it to the bottom of the stairs, and then dropped that disgusting, chewed-on apple core over the railing and onto his head.

He glanced at the clock. Less than an hour and half until eight. He considered just ignoring Spike's demands. Who was Spike to be making demands of him, anyway? And besides, he really did have stuff to do—none of it fun. Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt to go by the Hyperion, just for a little while, and see his dad.

Connor hopped in the shower. Thirty minutes later, he was on his way.

* * *

"No, no, it's crooked!" he heard Angel say. "You can't just … No, pull the other corner up a little more."

"I'm bloody trying, you git," Spike answered. "I can't even see what I'm doing from this angle, and you barking orders at me isn't helping … And anyway, the surprise is ruined, because there's your spawn."

"Hi," Connor said simply, waving a hand in rather confused greeting.

"Dammit, Spike, I told you to tell him 8 o'clock!" Angel said irritably. "Oh, and hello, son."

"I did tell him 8!" Spike protested, wadding the _Happy Birthday! _banner up and throwing it down from the banister at Angel's head. Connor figured he'd stolen that idea from the apple core incident. "I can't help it that he feels the need to be extra punctual. Maybe if he didn't think you'd beat his arse every time he did something wrong, he'd be late once in awhile."

"What's uh … What's going on?" Connor asked with a grin.

"Surprise party for your birthday," Angel mumbled.

"It isn't my birthday," he said.

"Well, no," Angel agreed. "But it's close enough. I wanted to do something for you on the actual day, but Spike informed me that twenty-year-old … men … don't want to spend their birthdays with their dads."

Connor glanced around the room and noticed that it was decorated in all sorts of odd, somewhat inappropriate ways. Angel had pulled a table from somewhere to the lobby and covered it in a plastic tablecloth decorated with happy little blue and white teddy bears declaring, "It's a boy!" Connor raised his eyebrows and nodded to it.

"Oh," Angel said uncomfortably. "It was … It was all they had. At the store. I ..."

"It's fine, Dad," Connor said, laughing. "I kinda love it."

There were presents on the table, wrapped presents. Presents wrapped in everything from Christmas paper to newspaper. It appeared he also had a cake—no, _two_ cakes. Angel must have noticed him noticing, because he cleared his throat and explained,

"I didn't know if you liked chocolate cake or white cake better. So I got both."

"It's … Wow," Connor said.

"You hate it," Angel said, his face falling. "I … It's okay."

"No, Dad, I totally don't hate it," Connor said enthusiastically. "I'm just … really surprised. That's all."

"Wait 'til you see the hats," Spike murmured from above them.

"Hats?" Angel asked.

"Yeah, well, I didn't think your fat head looked festive enough," Spike said, tossing a package of paper hats down below. "Put them on."

"Oh, I don't think we need—" Angel started to protest, staring hard at the offending hats with their elastic headbands and obviously thinking about flat hair.

"I said _put them on_," Spike repeated. "It's a party, and it's not a party without party hats, now is it?"

"Angel, are you sure you want us to be here for this?" Gunn said as he appeared from the kitchen. "I'm not sure he even likes me... Oh. Hey, man."

"Hey," Connor said, stifling a grin. "And if you meant me, I do like you. And of course you're invited to my birthday party. I mean, if it's okay with my dad."

"Everyone will be here, and everyone will enjoy it," Angel insisted. "Where is Illyria?"

"She went back for ice cream. Can't have cake without ice cream," Gunn said.

"You trusted her to go to the store?" Angel asked in alarm. "Alone?"

"Relax. She'll be fine. She's getting much better with people."

"No," Angel said, shaking his head. "No, she isn't. Just last week I saw her pick a little kid up off the ground by his shoulders, say he was too bony, and then put him back down. Like she was … I don't know, shopping for a new pet."

"Thank God," Spike said, throwing handfuls of confetti around the room at random. "I'll help her find a pudgy little bugger if that's what she wants. Anything to get the title off me."

"I have acquired the frozen cream," Illyria announced as she forcefully opened the doors.

She gazed around the room at each of them in turn.

"You have recently been discussing me. I can tell."

"Maybe," Angel said, motioning her to bring the ice cream to the table. "What kind did you get?"

"All of them."

"You … What now?" Gunn asked. "What do you mean, all of them?"

"I purchased one of each offered variety from the frozen display case," she said, as if that were the most natural thing to have done. "The containers are in the bed of your vehicle."

"Oh, geez," Gunn said, sighing and running straight out the door, avoiding Angel's told-you-so glare.

Spike followed quickly behind with a greedy gleam in his eye.

Connor was feeling a little bit overwhelmed, not having expected a party in his honor. Angel placed a paper hat on his head and snapped the elastic band around his chin before giving him a loose, sideways hug.

"Dad," Connor said, turning to give his father a proper embrace. "I'm … I'm sorry I haven't been around. I don't know. I just … I wasn't trying to..."

"Hush," Angel said, squeezing him tightly. "You and I don't _do_ feelings. Emotionally stunted, remember?"

Connor gave him a wry grin and then eyed the gift table.

"So uh … Any of those things like, alive?" he asked cautiously.

"I can't promise that Illyria's isn't," Angel answered seriously, sighing in her general direction.

"You didn't have to get me gifts," Connor said, feeling awkward.

"You have to have gifts at a birthday party," Angel said. "I never got to throw a birthday party for my little boy before. I mean, I guess you're not so little now, but … but it's the best I'm going to get."

"I thought the party was for me?" Connor asked with a hint of cheek.

"Keep it up and the birthday spankin' will come both before and after the cake," Angel replied evenly.

"Oh, you're totally not planning to do that!" Connor whispered, glancing around to see who all had heard. "Are you?"

Angel raised his eyebrows but didn't reply.

"That's not right, Dad," Connor protested, shaking his head and dropping into the "chair of honor" at the table. "That's just not right."

"I told you to bring chips," Spike said with a frown as he returned and deposited four different kinds of ice cream onto the table. "I see no chips."

"I thought you were kidding," Connor answered sheepishly.

"I never kid," Spike said.

"You don't tell someone to bring food to their own surprise party," Angel said, smacking Spike on the back of his head.

"Watch it!" Spike cried, smoothing his hair down. "And I still don't see a hat on your head. His Highness needs to be properly crowned."

Spike and Angel engaged each other in a long, intense staring contest that Connor supposed was some sort of silent battle of wills, and in the end, Angel lost. He donned his hat with a sigh, caught Connor's eye, and shook his head good-naturedly.

"I really hope someone has a camera," Connor said.

"You're not taking my picture," Angel answered immediately. "If anyone takes my picture in this stupid hat, I'll..."

"You'll not do anythin'," Spike said dismissively as he spread out paper plates and plastic flatware for five. "Give it a rest, Angel. Sit down and eat your damn cake."

"Gunn! Illyria!" Angel called. "We're starting!"

Gunn shuffled in with still more boxes of ice cream. Illyria followed, appearing immensely pleased about what a good job she'd done. The two took their places, and everyone looked at Connor expectantly.

"What?" he asked, blushing under all the attention.

"You have to cut the cake," Spike said.

"Oh. I don't … I don't think there's a knife."

Connor glanced around the table, but saw no cutting utensils.

"Here," Illyria said, striding toward the weapons cabinet.

"No!" Angel said quickly. "No, nothing from there. I'll get one. Hold on."

He returned with a knife of smaller scale and handed it to Connor apologetically.

"I wanted everything to be perfect, but you showed up early."

"Sure, blame it on me," Connor said.

"Like it'd have been perfect anyway," Spike commented. "Cut the cake already. I want chocolate. And white."

"No, wait!" Angel said, startling Connor just as he was about to cut into the chocolate.

"What?" Spike whined.

"We forgot the candles!"

"I'm not waiting around for you to put twenty bleeding candles in that cake!"

"That's right, you're not," Angel answered easily, already sticking little pastel blue, pink, and yellow candles into the cake at random. "You're going to wait around for me to put twenty candles in each cake."

"Oh for..." Spike groused, trailing off.

Gunn patted him on the shoulder.

"Do I understand correctly that we are to also chant a hymn of good tidings?" Illyria asked with polite interest.

"If you mean sing 'Happy Birthday,' then yeah," Gunn said drily.

"At what point does it occur?" she asked. "Before or after the unsheathing of the sacrifices?"

"Sacrifices?" Angel asked, turning his whole body and dragging a candle straight through the icing before he realized what he was doing. "Oh, shit!"

Gunn snorted, Spike chuckled openly, and Connor gave a gasp of mock surprise at his father's choice of words.

"What?" Illyria asked innocently—and it really was innocently. "The gifts were not meant to be sacrifices?"

"No," Angel said firmly, trying to smooth the icing back down with the flat of the knife.

"Excuse me a moment."

Illyria rose from the table, reached into the pile of gifts in the middle, removed one—hers, Connor assumed—and left the room with it.

"You were supposed to supervise her!" Angel hissed at Gunn as he began lighting all 40 candles.

"I'm sorry," Gunn said, though the fact that he was nearly crying from laughing so hard indicated that he might not be as sorry as he said.

"There has been a delay with your gift, younger Angel," Illyria said when she returned empty-handed. "I will see that it is delivered to you upon its arrival."

"Younger Angel has his own name, love, for the millionth time," Spike said. "He's not a clone. Well, not yet."

"Silence, pet," Illyria ordered, and Spike made the funniest, most indignant face.

"Okay, now blow them out, before it gets all waxy," Angel instructed. "Wait! Don't forget to make a wish!"

"Can I make two wishes, since I have two cakes?" Connor asked.

"You're being facetious, but yes," Angel answered. "Hurry up! Everyone sing!"

Connor took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and carefully considered his next move. He could just pretend to make a wish, but the kid in him wondered, what if this was his one chance for it to actually come true and he blew it? That would totally suck. But what should he wish for? The adult in him knew that, in this world, he needed to be very careful with his words or it could spell certain doom for everyone, and in fact, he'd be better off not wishing anything at all. As the raucous rendition of "Happy Birthday" drew to a close, he was still thinking about what to do.

"Tick tock," Spike said, shaking him from his inner turmoil. "If I fancied eating a wax cake, I'd have bought one."

"Stop pressuring him," Angel snapped. "Let him take his time. Not too much time, though..."

"I'm going, I'm going!" Connor said, laughing.

In the end, his inner child won the battle against his outer grownup. Connor silently made his wish before blowing out all forty candles spread across the two ridiculously large sheet cakes.

Angel, Spike, and Gunn cheered. Illyria merely watched intently, as if taking mental notes and saving the information for later use. Spike then declared himself master of ice cream ceremonies and began dishing absurd amounts of it onto everyone's paper plates. Angel grimaced, and Connor wondered if he was worrying about the amount of food that was inevitably going to end up on his floor.

As cake was passed around for all, Angel asked,

"What'd you wish for?"

"Nuh uh!" Gunn protested. "You can't ask a man that. Then it won't come true!"

"He's right, Dad," Connor said, nodding solemnly. "Besides, I don't want you to know what a self-serving little jerk I am."

Gunn took a breath like he was going to make a comment, but he stopped after the glare Angel gave him. Angel was good at glaring. Connor hoped to have such a talent one day.

Connor ate his cake and ice cream and, much to his surprise, had a genuinely good time—once they all got over the awkwardness. Though he refused to wear one himself, citing "It'll mess up my hair I don't have," Gunn affixed a paper party hat to Illyria's head. She endured the abuse, but made it abundantly clear that she would allow the experience to happen only this once, for "research purposes."

After they'd each had their serving—or two or three—of cake and ice cream, Connor helped Spike and Angel store what would fit of the ice cream in the freezer, and Connor cleaned up all the dirty plates, forks, and napkins. He knew messes were stressful to Angel, whether his dad admitted it or not, and he was so touched by the surprise party that he thought his father deserved all the cleaning help he could get.

As soon as the table had been cleared of all eating paraphernalia, Connor eyed the presents on the table. He wasn't exactly proud of it, but he found that he was almost beside himself with boyish anticipation.

"Angel, I do not understand the ceremonial beating," Illyria said, putting a halt to Connor's gift plans.

"Huh?" he said, alarmed.

"Gunn has explained to me that there is traditionally a physical punishment meted out at these events," Illyria continued.

"Oh, no, that's not … That's just … They only do that on television," Connor said, his hands creeping protectively behind him.

Angel gave him a small smile before turning his attention to Illyria.

"It's not a punishment, exactly, Illyria," he attempted to explain. "It's just sort of a playful thing."

"Is it not the same disciplinary correction that you normally administer to your child when he misbehaves?" she asked.

Connor groaned and knew he must be every possible shade of red. Spike was hiding his face behind both hands in an attempt to control himself.

"No, Illyria, it's … I mean, you don't punish someone for living another year. It's not like that."

"I wish to see it carried out," she said decidedly. "If not to participate myself. May I execute the custom?"

Connor's treacherous body actually found that idea exceedingly enticing, and while Spike and Angel must have sensed his increased heartbeat and rapid breathing, both of them had the good grace not to mention it.

"Daa-aaddy," Connor whined, turning wide, pleading eyes on his father.

"All right, all right," Angel said, giving in. "Connor would rather not take a birthday spanking, so I think we need to respect his wishes."

"The hell we do!" Spike said, jumping to his feet. "If anything he deserves extra for that pathetic attempt at manipulation. 'Daddy' indeed! I'll hold him down."

"No, wait!" Connor said, attempting to flee.

Unfortunately, Spike was a lot faster than he was, and before he could even properly process the horrible turn of events, he found himself upended over his best friend's lap.

"Spike!" he hissed, struggling in earnest to get free. "You let me go! This isn't funny!"

"Pretty funny from where I'm sittin'," Spike disagreed. "All right, the way I figure it, there's four of us and twenty years on him, so everyone should have a go. Charlie, come show Blue here how it's done."

"No!" Connor protested, kicking and squirming. "No one is having a go!"

"Can I, Angel?" Gunn asked hesitantly but with plain eagerness.

"Fine, but I don't guarantee that Connor won't kick all of your asses when this is over," Angel said with a laugh.

Connor gritted his teeth and endured five pretty good whacks from Gunn, who gave him a smug yet brotherly smile after he'd committed the atrocity.

"You had it comin'," he insisted.

"Your turn, Blue," Spike directed.

"Spike!" Connor whined. "Please."

Illyria came forward, leaned down to survey the situation, and smacked Connor once squarely on the behind with force equal to or possibly greater than Angel's on his maddest day.

"Ow!" he yelped. "Too hard! Too hard!"

"I apologize," she said. "I was restraining myself. I shall restrain myself further if your delicate human body requires it."

"No," he said slowly, not wanting to seem like a wimp. "It was fine."

"Excellent," she said, and then delivered four more of equally painful caliber.

Spike gave a low, amused whistle while Connor gripped his leg for dear life during the ordeal.

"My turn," Spike said, and Connor turned to stare up at him disbelievingly.

"You wouldn't," he challenged.

"Wouldn't I?" Spike asked. "I believe someone is … ahem … _sorely_ mistaken."

Spike told Connor to brace himself for the worst, which in reality turned out to be so light that Connor barely felt them.

"Daaaaddy's turn," Spike announced, motioning Angel over. "And don't forget to give him one to grow on."

Connor groaned and shifted around uncomfortably on Spike's bony knees. Angel waited for him to settle and then gave him five mild swats and then one hefty smack. Connor leapt to his feet as soon as Spike released his hold on him and rubbed his bottom dramatically, finding that he wasn't nearly as embarrassed about it now that it had passed.

"I hate you all. I want you to know that," he announced to much laughter. "I don't know why you're all laughing. I'm totally serious here. I better have some good presents."

"His punishment does not seem to have weakened his strong will," Illyria commented.

"Maybe we should repeat it, then?" Spike suggested, playfully grabbing Connor by his upper arm.

"Back off!" Connor laughed, shoving his friend away. "I will punch you. I'm not kidding."

"All right. All right," Spike conceded. "Let's let him open his gifts already. Mine first!"

Jesus. Finally!


	45. Chapter 45

_A/N: I'm not sure how five months passed between updates, but they did. I'm back on the job now, for real this time._

* * *

Connor obediently opened each gift as Spike put it into his hands. He thought that none of them was really worth the humiliation of a public spanking, but he politely thanked everyone in turn. Illyria couldn't stand being left out and insisted on describing her discarded gift in great detail, much to everyone's horror. Connor assured her that it was the thought that counted, and that she really, really didn't need to get him anything to replace that sacrificial squirrel.

"Okay, guess that about closes out the night," Gunn said, stretching dramatically. "Hope you had a good birthday, Con."

"No, wait," Angel interrupted as chairs scraped across the floor. "Wait. There's one more gift."

"Oh?" Connor asked, intrigued.

"Yeah," Angel said, running into his office and returning with a large, poorly-wrapped package. "It's … Well, it's probably nothing you're expecting, and probably nothing you're going to like."

"Gee, with that glowing recommendation, how could I not open it?" Connor asked in sarcastic good humor.

"Here," Angel said, holding it out to him.

Connor laid the package out on the table and carefully began to unwrap it, throwing suspicious glances in Angel's direction the entire time. The others seemed as curious as he was, so it must have been something that his dad had cooked up alone.

Huh. Well. That was … interesting.

"Regift much?" Connor asked with raised eyebrows as he surveyed the contents.

One familiar Mickey Mouse urn and one familiar battleaxe from the weapons case. Of course.

Angel cleared his throat and pulled a wrinkled piece of paper from his pocket.

"I thought … I thought you might like to do the honors," he explained.

"We're gonna get rid of the demon?" Connor asked tightly.

"A sacrifice after all!" Illyria whispered jubilantly, poking Gunn in the ribs. "I told you!"

"You sure did, girl," Gunn murmured absently, watching the situation unfold.

"I don't know, Dad," Connor said, dismayed.

Dismayed? Was he dismayed? Yes, he found that he was, though he wasn't entirely certain why. His palms began to sweat, and he wiped them across his jeans and shifted around uncomfortably.

"I mean, are you sure you really want another pentagram painted on the floor?" he asked.

"Don't even need one," Angel said happily, waving around his piece of paper. "Found a different spell to do the trick. I say these words, our friend in the jar goes corporeal, you chop off his head."

"Yeah. Fun, right?" Connor asked.

"Look, mate, I don't think he wants to," Spike murmured to Angel. "We can do it later, you and me. I'll read; you can chop. I know how you like to chop."

"No," Connor protested. "It's just … I mean, I want to. Yeah, okay, sure. Let's do it. Why not?"

Connor felt a little queasy, but he quashed the feeling as best he could. After all, he was The Destroyer, right? This was the kind of stuff he was made for, the stuff he'd trained for his whole life. Quor-toth Connor would have had the job done by now, no hesitation. Besides, he'd already taken down a demon just like this one, so he knew what to expect, more or less. It would be fine.

"Maybe I made a mistake, son," Angel said gently. "I have a skewed sense of propriety sometimes..."

"No," Connor said, keeping his voice as even as he could. "I'm totally in. Let's do it!"

"Great!" Angel exclaimed proudly. "Now remember, what are you _not _going to do?"

"What?" Connor asked, battleaxe already in hand.

"You are _not_ going to talk to him, right?" Angel prompted. "Just, no conversation. He pops out, you make with the killing. No talking, no leeway for anything but death."

"Right. Death," Connor repeated, nodding. "But … Dad?"

Connor could have sworn Angel cringed a little bit, but his face was unreadable.

"Yes?"

"Are you sure this is … I don't know, fair?" Connor asked quietly. "I mean, you know. Shooting fish in a barrel?"

"Fair?" Angel asked incredulously. He pointed an accusing finger at the urn. "Fair? Connor, that _thing_ in there is a demon! A very old, very evil demon who has already attempted to do away with you not once, but twice. And you're worried about a fair fight?"

"Okay," Connor murmured, twisting the axe in his hands and getting a good grip on it. "I hear you. Okay. I'm ready."

"Connor," Angel said, dropping his arms to his sides. "If you're not one hundred percent sure you want to do this, then I won't force you. There's no room for uncertainty. If we mess this up..."

"I won't mess it up," Connor said quickly. "I won't. I mean it, I'm totally ready this time. Let's do it."

Connor watched Spike, Gunn, and Illyria all retrieve their own weapons from the case, even as Angel glared daggers at them, but he knew it was for the best. Even if he faltered, or missed his mark for some reason, no way could Pihjzhan make it past all of them.

Angel cleared his throat and began reading the words on his paper. At first, nothing happened, but after a few moments, the lobby's lights dimmed ominously and a wisp of … demon … appeared from the top of the urn. Angel sped up his words, and the vase shattered as a very solid Pihjzhan burst forth.

"Now!" Angel ordered.

"What the—" the demon said.

That was as far as he got. Connor—for once—took Angel's advice to heart and made a clean slice. Pihjzhan's head tumbled backwards onto the table before his limp, lifeless body slumped to the side and eventually slid into the floor.

"Well," Gunn commented. "Glad that's over."

"I'm not cleaning that up," Spike said, wrinkling his nose. "I mean it."

Connor smiled wanly in relief, dropped his axe to the floor, fell to his knees, and promptly vomited all over the corpse.

"That either," Spike added quickly. "I'm not cleaning that up, either."

"It's all right, son," Angel said soothingly. "He can't hurt you anymore."

Connor tried to wave his father off. He was completely embarrassed and felt like he'd let him down. But Angel wasn't having any of it. He was right there with a wet towel and encouraging words and reassuring pats on the back.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I … sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about," Angel said, pulling him to his feet.

What was the matter with him? Hadn't he been all but begging lately to go out demon hunting with his dad and crew? Hadn't he gotten all offended when Gunn had suggested he might not be ready? Heaven forbid Gunn get to be right about something...

Killing, well, turned out it was kind of hard. Sure, that guy was a demon and all … but so was Angel. So was Spike. So was Illyria—wasn't she? And he didn't want to kill any of those people, not anymore. It was a little bit difficult to reconcile all the conflicts in his head.

"Can I lie down?" he asked, knowing he sounded piteous but not caring. "Just for a little while?"

"Of course!" Angel said, leading him toward the stairs.

"I repeat—not cleaning this up!" Spike called toward them. "I mean it!"

"Hush, Spike!" Angel hissed.

Connor rinsed his face and his mouth in his bathroom. He took an extra long time and hoped that Angel would be gone when he emerged, but no, his father was right there, sitting anxiously on his bed. That was oddly reassuring in a way that he hadn't thought it would be, and he was grateful.

"Can I get you anything?" his father offered. "Water? Um... Tea? Hot chocolate? You like hot chocolate, right?"

"I'm okay, Dad," Connor said, collapsing onto his bed and snuggling right up to the sitting Angel. "Really. But thanks."

"Okay, pal," Angel said, running his fingers through Connor's hair. "I'll let you rest."

"No," Connor said quickly. "Stay. Please?"

Connor encouraged him to do so by pushing gently on his chest, and Angel reclined—rather reluctantly, it seemed—and wrapped his arm around his son. Connor sighed deeply and rested his head on Angel's chest.

"Best birthday ever, Dad," he murmured sleepily.

"Yeah?" Angel asked skeptically.

"Totally," Connor said. "Until you take me out next year for my twenty-first."

"Who said I was going to do that?" Angel asked, amused.

"You gotta," Connor said. "I wished it."

"You did?" Angel asked.

"Yep."

"Well, now you've told me, so it won't come true," Angel said with mock disappointment. "Too bad."

"It'll come true," Connor said. "Wait and see."


	46. Chapter 46

Connor woke up to the obnoxious sunlight streaming into his face. He quickly opened his eyes, startled and already opening his mouth to yell at his father to get out of the light, but Angel had apparently left the room sometime in the night. Oh. Right. Angel _really _wasn't born yesterday; he probably knew enough to get himself out of harm's way before morning.

He turned his head and listened intently but didn't hear any noise coming from the lobby, so he decided to take a shower since his immediate presence wasn't required anywhere. Once he'd finished that up, he strode toward his bed wrapped in only a towel when something under the bed caught his eye. He reached down and snatched up the piece of paper.

He didn't recognize the handwriting, but the flowery curves and the use of the word "Angelcakes" were pretty good indications that it had probably been written by Lorne. It wasn't the full letter, because it started in mid-sentence. Connor figured it must have fallen out of his dad's pocket or something, and he knew he probably shouldn't take the liberty of reading it, but it was right there and he just couldn't help himself.

"_...will betray you again, Angelcakes. I'm not saying it will be soon, but I am saying it's almost a certainty. Do what you want with this information. Just be careful who you keep in your inner circle."_

Connor's brow furrowed as he read it again. It didn't make much sense without the previous page, but each subsequent reading made him more uneasy and he couldn't shake the feeling that this letter was about _him. _Two nasty words kept popping out at him, "betray" and "again." What did that mean? Did Lorne think he would somehow turn on Angel again, that he would send him on another trip to the bottom of the sea? That was horrible; it was unthinkable. He would never, ever do anything like that again, and it didn't matter what some supposedly empathic demon had to say about it.

Okay, he needed to calm down, take some deep breaths. The letter may not even refer to him. Surely he was smart enough to realize that. But if it wasn't about him, he couldn't quite surmise to whom it was referring. Spike, maybe? Spike had betrayed Angel loads of times, but as far as he knew, he didn't have any plans of doing it in the future. Spike had a soul. Spike was good. No matter what had happened in the past, or even what the man said or did now, Spike was good—of that Connor was certain.

Gunn? Gunn hadn't done any betraying of his father that Connor could remember, but they did have plenty of history before he'd come along. Illyria? Illyria was so beyond anything and everything that Connor couldn't begin to conceive how Lorne could have meant her. Illyria didn't betray; Illyria didn't deceive. Illyria did just exactly what she wanted at all times, announcing her full intent to anyone who'd listen.

No.

It had to be about him, and he had to see the rest of that letter.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Spike asked, and Connor nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Why do you _always_ sneak up on people like that?" he demanded. "Jesus!"

"I don't sneak. I skulk," Spike said good-naturedly. "I'm a vampire; it's what we do. You ought to know that by now. Looks like you're the one who's sneaking about. Care to fill me in on the reason why?"

"No," Connor said shortly.

"Gotta be a reason you're ransacking your dad's closet," Spike pointed out. "If you're throwing things away, I want to help!"

"I'm not throwing things away," Connor said, lowering his voice and hoping that Spike would take the hint and do the same. "Just... You know that jacket he's always wearing?"

"Yeah," Spike said with a nod. "What of it?"

"Does he ever, you know, take it off?"

"Why are you asking me about your father's various states of undress?" Spike asked, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "What makes you think I would know?"

"Spike," Connor sighed, tired of always getting the runaround. "Okay, look. If I show you something, will you promise not to tell him?"

"Nope," Spike said easily, examining his fingernails.

"Spike!"

"The 'nope' still stands, Junior, no matter what kind of puppy dog eyes you make at me," Spike said, leaning against the door jamb. "What is it?"

Connor reluctantly pulled out the piece of the letter that he'd found and handed it over to his friend. Spike read it with raised eyebrows, and Connor thought he was going to hand it right back, but he didn't.

"Do you think it's about—"

"Me," Spike cut him off. "Bloody hell!"

"You?" Connor asked in surprise. "I don't think it's about you."

"Well, who else would it be about, then?" Spike asked skeptically.

"You plan on betraying Angel any time soon?" Connor asked doubtfully.

"Well, no," Spike admitted. "But with me, you can never tell. After all, I never miss a chance to stick it to your pop."

"Stop joking around," Connor said irritably, grabbing the letter back in a huff. "It's not about you."

"You don't know that," Spike said defensively, drawing himself up to his full height so he could look down his nose at Connor. "I could betray him. I could betray him at any moment. I'm really good at it!"

"Fine," Connor said in disgust. "Then there's only one thing to do. We need to find the rest of this letter."

"Where'd you get this part?" Spike asked.

"I think it fell out of his pocket last night," Connor explained. "That's why I was hoping his jacket would be here."

"He takes it off to sleep ... usually," Spike supplied helpfully. "And to shower … maybe."

"Just forget it," Connor muttered. "I'll find it myself."

"I'm trying to help, mate!" Spike insisted. "We'll find that letter—and when we do, twenty quid says it's about me."

"First of all, I don't know how much that is, so no," Connor replied. "And second of all, I think you're way too eager to play the villain. This is serious. It's not some joke. It's not funny."

"I know," Spike said, clearly trying hard to sound like he was giving the situation the serious consideration it merited. "But Connor, if it has to be about one of us, I … I'd just rather it was me."

The long look Spike gave him caused Connor to drop his gaze to the floor.

"I wouldn't," he said softly, shaking his head as if trying to convince himself. "I couldn't."

Spike wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders and spoke quietly into his ear.

"I could. Let's find that letter."


End file.
